


Blends of Paradise

by goosewriting, thesoftestangel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Human, Barista Crowley, Budgie - Freeform, Cartoonist Crowley, Drag Artist Crowley, Ezra has a cat called Oscar, Ezra is a fantasy novelist, Ezra is healing from trauma from an ex, F/M, Fluff, Lucifer is the horrible ex boyfriend, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Writer Aziraphale, Written for the Good Omens Mini Bang, budgerigar, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goosewriting/pseuds/goosewriting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoftestangel/pseuds/thesoftestangel
Summary: Successful fantasy novelist Ezra A.Z. Fell has hit a snag in his latest book.  His hero, Sir Frederik of Del Hevela, lacks motivation, lacks a drive.  His agent suggests a love interest, which would be all well and good if love wasn’t dead.  Shitty ex-boyfriends will do that.  But a chance encounter at the Blends of Paradise coffee shop with barista Anthony J Crowley, a cartoonist and drag artist, starts to change his mind.  Will Ezra find his faith in love again? And will he, and Sir Frederik, find their happy ending?(Written as part of The Good Omens Mini-Bang, with illustrations from goosetooths)
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 248
Kudos: 409
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs, Good Omens Mini Bang





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Ezra Fell, a young writer trying his best to get over a speed bump in his writing process. Turns out that having your agent call doesn't help matters very much...

_And so, Sir Frederik went, sword and shield in hand, riding away from the castle of the King, to his destiny. He was ready for the glory of battle, ready for the stories that would be told of his quest for ages to come. He would be a legend. But first, to find the wretched creature that would meet its impending doom by his blade._

Urgh.

Ezra pressed the backspace button on the keyboard, deleting everything that he had just written. No, it did not seem right. The words just didn’t feel right under his fingertips as he wrote. He stared at the blinking line at the corner of the page on the screen. It was mocking him; he could feel it. How on earth was he meant to get something, well, started?

As he sat, trying to figure his way out of the issue, he heard the warble of _The Hills Are Alive (With the Sound of Music)_ coming from his phone. Ezra groaned, picking up the phone, swiping across the screen to answer the phone call.

“Hello Gabriel.”

“Ah, my favourite ray of sunshine! How’s the chapter going?” Gabriel asked, his voice far too cheerful for nine o clock in the morning. Ezra could imagine his agent sat in his office in Mayfair, all too clean, all too crisp, with photography of the Swiss alps everywhere you looked. He could see Gabriel sat at his desk in his mind’s eye, clutching a mug of the finest green tea (“I refuse to sully the temple that is my body with gross matter”, he’d said one time during a meeting at a publisher’s office when offered the standard cup of coffee.) and smiling far too widely as he reclined back on that grey leather seat with the lavender cushions.

“It’s… going,” Ezra replied, taking a sip from his own mug of tea. Cold.

“Did you think any more on the feedback I gave you? Sir Frederik’s Purpose?” Gabriel asked, “I mean, he could just be going off to slay the dragon, or whatever the heck he’s doing for the sheer heck of it, but that’s very two dimensional, if you see what I mean? You’ve got to give the readers some meat on the bones, if you know what I’m saying?”

Ezra sighed. He knew what he was doing. He’d published a novel series in the past that was considered to be the next _Game of Thrones_ , both in storytelling and in popularity in the fantasy community. But, even successful writers have blocks in their writing. Sometimes they might write drafts with utter clangers in them. Perhaps this project was one of those that he needed to scrap and start again?

No, he couldn’t do that. Not with the deadline, and Gabriel looming over him with his far-too-corporate-American grin. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to steady his mood, which was beginning to darken quite considerably.

“I understand what you’re saying, Gabriel,” he said, “Find what his Purpose is, what drives him to his goals.”

He could almost hear Gabriel’s smirk from the other end of the phone and cringed. “That’s fantastic to hear, Sunshine,” Gabriel replied, “It doesn’t have to be a something, you know? Maybe a _someone_? A beautiful maiden, perhaps?”

Ezra’s breath sharpened. He couldn’t believe what Gabriel had the audacity to suggest. Didn’t he know that he’d specifically said that he didn’t ever want to write romance, even with the mildest flavour of the idea, not after everything that had happened before. The idea of writing two happy lovers made his stomach churn with anxiety that only other heart-broken artists could really understand.

“I know you’ve said that you’re not a massive fan of the whole romance writing thing, but you’ve got to leap out of your comfort zone, challenge yourself as a writer. Readers really appreciate that kind of thing, the refreshing exploration of themes. How does A.Z. Fell write about courtly love? How do his heroes woo those who’s affections they wish to receive?”

“It’s not something that I feel like A.Z Fell would want to explore, thank you very much. Not to mention that my readership wouldn’t respond that well to it,” Ezra said, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“That’s the thing, Sunshine,” Gabriel said, “Your readership. We’d like to try and expand your audience, especially as _The War of Smoke and Mirrors_ was so successful; we’d like to see more people of more varying tastes enjoying your work. Like, it’s all very well writing huge, epic battle scenes and war hall scenes, but not everyone wants that kind of fantasy story.”

“Well, I’m not writing for the mainstream…”

“Problem is, that makes you less marketable to other publishers, that’s the bottom line,” Gabriel said, “They’re looking at various things, like the fact that more women are consuming High Fantasy material, there’s more LGBTQ+ content too. We need to make sure you stay relevant, Sunshine.”

Ezra gritted his teeth in annoyance. What Gabriel was saying was true, irritatingly so. He felt his jaw unclench as he thought about what Gabriel was saying, letting it sink in slowly. At his most recent book signings for the final _The War of Smoke and Mirrors_ novel, there were more young women in the line, not just there to support partners, but fans in their own right. It was something that he was proud of, fantasy is surely for everyone, regardless of gender, race, religion, or creed. In fantasy everyone belonged, everyone had their place. It was why he wrote and read the genre in the first place from a very young age.

Fantasy had been his escape, his sanctuary. It was a place of joy and celebration when he was in a place of happiness, a balm on a wound when in his darkest of hours. He knew this was the case for his fans too. He’d seen the fanfiction ‘shipping’ his characters Sir Roger and his trusty apprentice Karlos, despite the fact that nothing romantic had been implied about them, or at least, he wasn’t aware of any absent-minded implications. But so, it was.

Did that mean they did want love and romance in his work?

“I’ll think about it, Gabriel,” Ezra said.

“That’s excellent to hear! I’ll check on you in a couple of days to see how you’re getting on!” Gabriel said, “Have a great day, Sunshine!”

Gabriel hung up.

Ezra let out a massive sigh that he hadn’t realised that he’d been holding onto. He put down the phone, which landed onto the desk with a sad little clunk.

He looked back up at the word document he had up on his laptop. The little black line was still flashing at him from the empty page. It looked so lonely, so sad there by itself. Ezra couldn’t bear to look at it anymore. With a huff, he closed the laptop lid.

He needed to get out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is Blends of Paradise! 
> 
> I've always loved Coffee Shop AUs, and I just knew that this would work for our Ineffable Duo! 
> 
> Up to now I've only written an unfinished AU fic and one little birthday gift one-shot, so this was a whole new challenge! It's a good job I have so many wonderful people to cheer me on in the Do It With Style Events server over on Discord!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra decides that leaving the house will be the best move. We meet a certain barista in a little coffee shop on the high street. Some might say that it's love at first sight...

With the speed of a man haunted by the need to distract himself, Ezra packed his satchel with his laptop, a notebook that was battered with pages falling out of it, his rainbow pencil case. He was in such a rush he nearly forgot the chargers for his phone and laptop. There was scratching and mewing at the office door. 

“Not now,” Ezra groaned, but he slung the satchel strap over his shoulder and opened the door. In waltzed his cat, Oscar. He was a black cat, with soft short fur. Like his owner, he looked like he was too indulgent with the treats, Ezra thought, as Oscar rubbed against his legs, continuing to meow in an indignant manner. 

With a sigh, Ezra walked back over to his desk, where he kept a small glass jar with cat treats in, opened the lid and took a few out. He then crouched down to Oscar’s level, offering the treats with the palm of his hand. With a grateful chitter, Oscar daintily took the treats from Ezra’s hand, before scuttling off into the corner to chew them with a thoughtfulness not necessarily seen in the feline species. Ezra chuckled softly. At least one man in his life would always love him, even if it was mainly because without him there would be none of those little treats that he loved. 

Ezra got up, then walked out of the office. Then he headed down to the hall where his jackets and coats were hung up. It was a warmer day than usual, so Ezra chose his favourite brown blazer. It was like putting on a warm, cosy hug. It was one of those safe pieces of clothing to wear out and about.

No, he shouldn’t think like that anymore. It didn’t matter what Lucien thought. Lucien was long gone, off with someone prettier, someone not plain or dumpy. Someone that suited the flashy lifestyle that he wanted. Ezra ‘s breath out shuddered as he briefly hugged himself in order to ground himself back in the moment. It was going to be alright, it had to be. Once he felt a little better, Ezra slipped his feet into his brogues, laced them up, and picked up his wallet, keys and phone from the little coffee table by the table, then unlocked the front door. 

As he opened the door, a blur of black shot out of the door. 

Ezra took another deep breath. If his cat could step out into the world with gusto to go and get what he needed, then he damn well could too. This little moment was just that, a little moment. He needed to get out of the house for more than just meetings with Gabriel and the publishers. It was time to seize the day, enjoy a walk, maybe find somewhere to sit and write for a little while. 

With a new sense of adventure, he stepped out of his front door, closed it behind him, and headed out into the world. 

****

“Hello, I’m Crowley, welcome to Blends of Paradise, where every cup is a taste of Heaven! What can I get for you today, sir?”

“Do you just do coffee? None of the froofy nonsense?”

Crowley sighed, but did his best to keep his ‘customer service’ face on. In front of his till there was a man in a horrid beige suit, gold glinting in his toothy smile. 

“I could get you an Americano? That’s essentially a black coffee, but made with espresso and hot water. I can also make it white by adding some milk?” Crowley said brightly. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“Not a problem,” Crowley said, “What size would you like that?”

“I just want a bloody coffee!” said the customer, who was looking rather irritated, “Does it matter how big or small it is?”

“I’ll get you a regular size. Drink in or takeaway?”

“What do you think?” the man replied with a huff, “I’m a busy man with somewhere to be, I can’t bloody well drink in!”

Crowley could feel his smile slipping. He could usually deal with stressed out business types, but most of the time these stressed out business types aren’t downright rude to their baristas. A bit snippy and harried, perhaps, but never obnoxious. What bee was in this man’s bonnet today?

Crowley picked up one of the takeaway cups and wrote the man’s order, putting a little apple doodle next to the ‘Americano’ note on. He smirked, this was their way of letting the barista making the coffee that the customer was a top-grade asshole, to prepare them when they handed the order to the customer. If he drew a star, it meant that the customer was especially lovely, and a heart meant the customer was someone that he might be, ahem, interested in... 

“That’ll be three pounds fifty please,” Crowley said, as he handed the empty cup over to Anathema who was manning the espresso machine, trying to keep his tone as light as he could.

“How bloody much? Absolute rip off, that is!” the customer said, his face turning red with anger, “Keep your damn coffee, wouldn’t be caught dead drinking your frilly nonsense anyway!”

The customer turned on his heel and stalked out, crashing into someone who was walking through the door, not even stopping to apologise, and walking down the street as far away as he could. 

“Well, he was rather fun, wasn’t he?” Anathema said dryly. She did not look impressed. “His aura was very dark, I don’t think he had a good bone in his body. I nearly accidentally spilt the chili flakes for the soup into that coffee…”

“What, and have Beez put you on a final warning? Nah, not worth it Ana,” Crowley said. 

He looked back out over the coffee shop floor. The guests had initially had their feathers ruffled during the whole storming out shenanigans, but had now settled back down to their drinks, snacks and conversations.

The person who had been knocked into was dusting themselves off. He, for it was a young man, stood by the door, blinking with surprise at the random altercation that he would have had no context for. He looked like a deer that had suddenly seen the lights of an incoming car that he was about to be crashed into by. His hair, blonde and wild with curls, was ruffled further from the sudden knock. He wore a pair of beige chinos, brown brogues and a baby blue shirt, the collar poking from a brown argyle sweater vest. Over this he was wearing a very well-worn, and possibly very well loved brown blazer. 

The young man looked down, and realised that a load of papers had escaped from his bag during the scuffle with the rude customer. He looked rather panicked, all of a sudden. 

“Oh, my notes... “ he said, “All of my notes… They’ll all be scattered into pieces!”

Crowley wasn’t quite sure why his feet were carrying him from behind the counter, over to the man who was now on his knees trying to frantically scrabble all the papers that were scattered all over the ground, being trodden on by other guests as they tried to float across the floor of the cafe as the doors opened and closed to let guests in and out. He found himself getting down onto his knees, deftly plucking pieces of paper off of the ground, carefully placing them together in his hands so that they wouldn’t be separated again. 

He could feel the gaze of the man over him, warm and delicate. Crowley looked up to see the face of the man who’s papers he was holding in his hands. 

There was a look of surprise on his face that was absolutely sweet. His cheeks had a sudden tinge of pink as he averted his gaze from Crowley, like he was ashamed to have been caught looking at him, like he shouldn’t dare to look. 

Crowley’s heart stopped mid-beat. 

Those eyes… 

He hadn’t seen eyes that were like this man’s eyes. They were a shade of blue, with tinges of silver that he could feel himself getting lost in. The expression in them looked so gentle, so kind. Yet also afraid, so unsure.

“Here, your notes. Are you alright?” Crowley asked. 

The young man gently took the papers out of Crowley’s hand, like they were the most delicate things in the world. Their hands brushed against each other softly. The touch felt unlike anything that Crowley could ever describe. 

“I’ll be alright, dear boy, I always am, eventually,” the man said, his voice soft and tinged with a shade of shyness. “It’s a miracle that these notes are salvageable. I’m so sorry I caused a scene. I guess I can just be on my way…”

“Don’t be so daft,” Crowley said, getting back up on his feet and offering the young man a hand up, “I’m no angel, but I can craft a miracle or two of my own. Let’s get you a drink and set you up at a table, hm?”

The young man took Crowley’s hand, taking the assistance of being pulled back up to his feet gratefully. He then quickly let go of Crowley’s hand, almost too quickly, Crowley thought sadly, before he carefully put the papers back into his satchel. 

Reluctantly, Crowley walked back round to his till. He could now feel Anathema staring a hole into his back as he continued to serve his customer. 

The young man ordered a large cocoa to drink in. 

“What’s your name? To call it out when it’s ready, I mean…” Crowley asked, as he took a post-it to write the order down to stick on the mug.

“Ezra,” the young man replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter of the day! 
> 
> This is almost certainly my favourite bit of art so far for this fic, Sev did an outstanding job with capturing such an iconic moment!
> 
> I do hope that you are all loving the story so far! As always, all comments and kudos are really appreciated!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra finally gets that spark of inspiration, whilst Crowley gets grilled and teased by his collegues. Beelzebub gets done with the nonsense, and does something about it...

“So…”

“Shut it, Ana,” Crowley said, once Ezra had paid, and taken a seat by the window. 

“I could see the way you were looking at him, like you had never seen a man before…” Anathema said with a smirk. She gestured to the post-it note with Ezra’s order written on it. Yes, there was a little heart next to where the instruction of ‘Large cocoa with whipped cream’ was written in Crowley’s frantic scrawl. “Come on, you blatantly like him, you drew that out of pure instinct, right?”

“Ngk!” Crowley spluttered, as he heard the bell of the front door opening, and a gaggle of teenage girls crowding into the shop. They all congregated at the till, causing Crowley to have to put a pause on the conversation, which was a blessed relief. 

Soon he was swept up in at least eight strawberry whip frappachinos, which were by far the most time consuming drinks known to mankind, and all thoughts of the handsome young man sat by the window were all but pushed to the side. As there were so many, he’d had to nervously put Newton onto the till from table bussing duty to serve the other customers (and pray to Satan that he wouldn’t crash the system like he had the other week), and assist Anathema with making the drinks. He could barely hear himself over the whoosh of the milk frothers or the whirs of the blenders. It was a frantic thirty minutes. 

At last, the teenagers were given their sugary concoctions, and sent off on their way back down the high street, satisfied. The drinks queue was caught back up on not long after. The coffee shop returned to a more relaxed trundling pace, as Newton hopped back off the till, muttering something about the till drawer being jammed. 

Crowley looked out over the coffee shop floor. 

The man, Ezra, was still sat at the table. He had a laptop open and plugged into the socket in the wall, with the papers Crowley had rescued spread out around it. He was typing furiously, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he worked. Every so often he took this pencil, and scribbled some sort of note onto a piece of paper, before tucking it back behind his ear and getting back to his typing. He looked like he belonged in that space, like he had always been there. 

“You’re gonna give him your number.”

“Shut up!” Crowley said, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope!” Anathema replied, popping the ‘p’ in the phrase. She grabbed a paper napkin and a pen, thrusting it at Crowley. “You never have a problem about this normally, so what’s stopping you this time?”

Newton came back around the counter, a tray full of dishes in his hands. “Has Crowley.ex stopped working?” he asked with a lopsided smirk.

“Not you too Newton?” Crowley groaned. But he didn’t throw the napkin and pen back at his colleagues. He kept a rather tight grip on them. 

“What’zzz going on here?”

The rest of the team turned around to see their general manager stood beside Anathema. 

“Ah, Beez,” Crowley said, giving them a mock-bow, “Good to see you.”

“The slackers…”

“That’s not a very nice word to call your team, Beez,” Crowley said.

“I can very easily think of much worse, Crowley, much worse…” Beez replied, “Now, can anyone tell me why you’re all collected back here like a flock of clucking hens?”

“There’s a guest in here that Crowley is clearly wanting to see naked,” Anathema said with a smirk, “But he’s suddenly been taken rather shy all of a sudden and won’t do anything about it.”

“Hmmm, not like you Crowley,” Beez said, “Who are they?”

“The gentleman by the window,” Anathema said, discreetly pointing the man in question out. 

Beez took a good long look. Their eyes widened.

“Do you know who that is?” Beez hissed.

“A very handsome young man who’s pants Crowley wants to get into?” Newton asked. 

“That’s one of my boyfriend’s top clients!” Beez said, “A.Z. Fell!”

Newton’s eyes also widened as he did a double take at the man at the table, looking over what looked to be some sort of map with a look of deep thought on his face. “ _ The  _ A.Z. Fell?  _ The War of Smoke and Mirrors _ A.Z. Fell? I loved those books!”

“You wouldn’t shut up about that series for weeks!” Beez groaned, “How did you think we were able to get you those signed first editions for you for Christmas?”

Newton looked like he was about to faint.

Crowley looked back at the man. The way that the sunlight hit his blonde curls was mesmerising. It made his hair look like it was almost white, like sea foam crashing against the rocks at the beach. He’d taken his blazer off, leaving it carefully draped on the back of his chair. He’d rolled the sleeves up of his shirt, revealing his forearms, firm and strong looking. What would Crowley give to feel those arms around him, have those hands, large and strong pinning him down in bed…

Good Somebody, he never got so flustered over another human being. Why this man. Why him? Why now? 

Then, he realised that he’d been staring. 

And that Ezra was staring right back. 

***

Ezra was finally making some headway with this chapter. This was blatantly what he needed, a change of scenery, a good mug of cocoa and a table to spread himself out on. 

_ He flagged the barkeeper down, and ordered a flagon of ale. The ride to this tavern had been long, and the Solstice sun had been beating down on him for several hours. The feeling of cold, bitter ale revived him as he took another sip. His parched lips felt the refreshment of the liquid as he felt more like himself than he had done for several hours.  _

_ “I’ve not seen you around here before, knight.” _

_ Frederik looked and saw a young man had just arrived next to him. He held a goblet of ruby red wine in his hand, with a lazy grip that looked more in place with a gentleman sat at a banquet at Court rather than perched on the bar of a dusty tavern on the road to goodness only knows where. He was dressed in a dark doublet and jacket, with a flash of a red shirt peeking through.  _

_ Frederik couldn’t help, however, noticing that the man had long hair like a forest blaze flowing down his back as he perched on the bar stool. He took a swig from the goblet, before leaning an elbow on the bar, the goblet delicately balancing between his long fingers.  _

_ But those eyes… _

_ They were a shade of amber, with flecks of gold and green dancing in them like a Court Dance of the Fae on Midsummer’s Night. Was it the low candlelight of the tavern that made those eyes look so mystical, so extraordinary. _

_ Frederik felt his breath catch in the back of his throat.  _

_ Someone like him could not possibly be interested in the likes of him, Frederik thought as he took a swig of his ale. People like this man did not look at people like him unless they wanted something out of him. This man was nothing like he had ever had the pleasure of meeting before. He was a thing of pure beauty.  _

_ Not like himself, Frederik thought bitterly. He looked down at his more rotund figure. It was painfully obvious that he had lately overindulged in good food and drink. It was embarrassing for him to be even considering that this young man would be interested in a boring, fat man like himself.  _

_ He didn’t want to feel the sting of false affection against his heart, not like before. He’d been cheated and lied to before, and he could not bear to endure such agonising pain ever again. He had to keep his head in the game, he had a dragon to slay, a whole city of people he had to save.  _

_ But the young man was still looking at him, a good natured smile on his lips and a laugh in his elven-esque eyes… _

Ezra looked up from his writing, back at the man behind the counter. He’d been stealing sneaky glances at him ever since he had returned to his work. He’d watched the man working on making all those orders, yet keeping some flow of chatter to the young clientele with ease that Ezra wished that he could have himself. The way that he looked as he chatted and laughed with his colleagues looked so relaxed and happy that Ezra’s chest ached slightly. 

He couldn’t get the scene from earlier that afternoon out of his head. The way that he’d come to Ezra’s aid, picking up his notes like they were sheets of precious gold rather than not worth the paper they were written on. The smile in his eyes as he looked at Ezra, so kind, so gentle. The colours that danced in his eyes had captured Ezra in a way that he simply could not explain. 

Then he looked up. 

The barista was looking at him. 

Surely that expression wasn’t what he hoped it might be? Men like that barista didn’t look at him in a way that said, “I think I might like you as an attractive human being.” No, that had to be wishful thinking. Not plain, boring Ezra Fell. Not the man with the only good thing going for him happened to be the fact that he was a writer of a successful fantasy novel series, which came with money. Money that could be taken advantage with, along with a naieve, stupid man with too much of a sweet tooth and no spine. 

Feeling a sudden twinge of embarrassment, he looked away, trying really hard to blink away a tear that was threatening to make itself known as he made a point of staring at the laptop screen. Ah, Frederik, he thought, how I project myself unto thee…

There was a sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. 

Ezra jumped slightly at the sudden sound, and turned to the source of the sound. 

A short person with a mop of shaggy black hair was glaring at him. 

“Beez! I didn’t know you worked here!” Ezra said, surprised. He’d met them before at a dinner gala that Gabriel had insisted that he went to in order to ‘network’ with publishers for his next novel. He’d been a little frightened of them at the time, and now was no different.

“I cannot believe I am doing this, but I suppose this’ll get my team to stop wittering on and back to work,” Beez said, tossing a paper napkin in Ezra’s direction. 

“Should I thank you, Beez?” Ezra asked as he caught the napkin in mid-air.

“Thank me, and I’ll make sure your next mug has salt in it,” Beez replied, with a hint of amusement in their voice, as they bustled away from Ezra’s table. 

Ezra then looked at the napkin that was in his hand. 

Written on it, in black biro, was a mobile phone number, and a message.

_ Here’s my number, so call me maybe? _

_ Crowley x _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 
> 
> So it looks like for now that it'll be Sundays when we update Blends of Paradise for now, as both Sev and I have a lot of things to do outside of this collaboration! If you're new here, then welcome! We hope that you enjoy our efforts!
> 
> Sev also created this amazing playlist, called The Paradise Blend, that you can listen along to whilst reading this fic. I also enjoy writing along to it as well, it gets me right in the mood!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6G8f8xvuMmdKwKvEliEdYA?si=VafBt56RQIWntYCPeZ125A
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated by both of us, and I do my best to respond to each one!
> 
> Have a great day, and we'll see you again next Sunday!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley settles in for a night of Netflix and yearning, when he gets a phone call that changes things...

Crowley found himself pacing in his lounge area that evening. 

Every so often, he’d glance over at the coffee table where he had placed his iPhone, which stayed rather quiet. 

Too quiet.

Normally this wouldn’t bother him, as when he usually was at home, he enjoyed the silence of solitude. Life was always so loud, so busy. Being at home, among the plants and the artwork made Crowley feel so safe, calm. Except today. 

He’d given guests at the coffee shop his number before. He’d been ghosted by them before. Heck, he’d even gone out with some of them, slept with a few of them. So why was he now freaking out about this one man? What was so damn special about him that made Crowley’s heart grow three sizes bigger in the space of a couple of hours? 

Crowley had written his number on that napkin, with Beez and Anathema looking over his shoulder, before it was snatched from his hands. He’d watched with a mixture of awe and nerves as Beez had stalked over to the table that the writer was sat at, spoke to him and tossed the napkin at him. He’d caught the napkin in mid air deftly. The way that he’d handled that napkin was so careful, as if it was so delicate, like it could burst into flames and oblivion if he dared let go of it. He’d put the napkin in the inside pocket of that brown blazer, with a small smile that suddenly had a piece of hope. It suited him, Crowley thought. 

It was lucky that the coffee shop remained so quiet for the rest of the time the writer was working in the shop. Crowley couldn’t help but quietly watch the writer, Ezra, at work. When he was in the flow, it was like the whole world was shut away from him as he typed, his fingers dancing over the keys as his worlds were created on the screen. His face was screwed up with an expression of determined concentration as he worked, his eyebrows furrowed as he worked through what looked like a particularly tricky part in what he was writing. He only paused for the occasional sip of his drink, which he did as if it were the sweetest nectar he had ever had. 

It was sad to see him eventually finish his drink and start packing everything up to go. He collected up his papers into a pile, before depositing them into his satchel. He then closed down his laptop, unplugged the charger from the socket before also putting those away. On went his blazer. He even patted over where that internal pocket in that blazer would be where that napkin with that phone number was folded into, over his heart. Satchel slung back onto that shoulder, he had looked back over to where Crowley had been standing, not even hiding the fact that he was staring. 

He’d smiled, and gently waved good-bye to him as he’d set off on his way. 

How had that smile wormed its way into Crowley’s mind? 

It was so different to the people he normally found himself attracted to, who were as loud and obnoxiously confident as he was. But this man was different. It was quiet, gentle and soft. Despite this, the smile had made it to his eyes, which looked so bright in the sunlight. 

Crowley looked back at his phone, which was still silent. 

Maybe he’d gotten the wrong end of the stick afterall? Had he mistaken awkward gratitude for a shy potential of a spark to fan into a flame? Was that smile merely a kind one, or was it really a silent confession? 

Crowley sat on his sofa, wrapping his soft blanket around himself as he picked up the remote for the television. Perhaps a quick binge of Netflix would put his mind at ease, he thought to himself as he fired up the PlayStation 4 and brought up Netflix. 

Hmmmm… There was that new series of _Queer Eye_ that was ripe for the watching. Yeah, that would do the trick. Nice, wholesome television about making people happy. He could do that for a little while. Not to mention Antoni was rather easy on the eye…

As he settled into the first episode, about a gay pastor finally accepting his sexuality as part of his spiritual journey, his phone rang. 

Crowley felt like he leaped out of his skin as he fumbled out of his blanket burrito, frantically paused Netflix and grabbed his phone. It was a mobile phone number that he didn’t recognise. 

Could it be him? 

Crowley accepted the call, putting the phone to his ear. 

“Hello, you’ve reached AJ Crowley, you know what to do, just do it with style!” he said, trying to keep his voice swave and level, like his heart wasn’t trying to break out of his chest. 

“Oh, hello. This is Ezra, from the, uh, coffee shop?” said a warm, gentle voice. 

Crowley swallowed. “Hello, Ezra. I’m so glad you called me,” he said. 

“I didn’t think I would,” Ezra replied, his voice tinged with a shade of nerves, “But I knew there would be so much regret if I didn’t.”

“No day like today,” Crowley said, “Regardless, I’m glad you’re talking to me.”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me today,” Ezra said, “They were only notes, but without them I just wouldn’t have gotten any work done! It would have set me back a while! Goodness knows what my editor Michael would think, they’re a right stickler, as is Gabriel… Oh, whoops, I’m rambling on, do forgive me, my dear…”

My dear… The words stuck in Crowley’s mind, stopping his heart for just a moment. Ezra’s voice felt like being wrapped up in a warm woolen blanket that was so soft, so cosy. To be perfectly honest, he could start reading the Oxford Dictionary from the beginning, and Crowley would be enthralled the whole time. 

“Don’t be daft, angel,” Crowley said, “I don’t mind you rambling.”

There was a pause. 

“I’m no angel, Crowley,” Ezra said quietly, “I’m just plain old me.”

“You’re not plain old you at all,” Crowley replied, “I don’t know who told you otherwise, but you are not plain.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Ezra said, his voice still quiet, yet wrought with something that Crowley couldn’t explain, but only felt, deep within himself. Did he sound like he was going to cry? The thought made Crowley sad, but also very angry. Angry that something, or someone had made this lovely man so sad, so deeply insecure. 

“I’m not kind, I’m never kind,” Crowley replied, “But I know a handsome, good looking man when I see one.”

“You may not think you are kind, my dear boy,” Ezra said, his voice rugged with something unspoken, “But I haven’t heard anyone say anything like that to me for a very long time.”

“I’ll tell you more often, if you’d let me,” Crowley said, “Let me take you out, a spot of lunch, perhaps?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Ezra replied, “When are you free next?”

“I know this is a bit far fetched, but how is tomorrow?”

“Actually, that sounds absolutely splendid!” 

“I’ll text you the location and time? If that’s alright with you, of course,” Crowley said. 

“Absolutely! I shall see you tomorrow, then?”

“I’ll see you then, angel,” Crowley replied. 

They said their goodbyes, and hung up. Crowley put the phone down onto the coffee table like it was the most sacred talisman in the world.

He was going to go on a date. Tomorrow. With a man that was potentially the embodiment of heaven on earth. 

Where should they go? What should he wear?

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one heck of a week in BoP HQ (yes, in this house we abbreviate things!). I've had a bit of a rough time with work, but seeing all the lovely comments and kudos have been keeping me going! 
> 
> I will likely reference way too many Netflix and Amazon Prime shows. 
> 
> And I may agree with Crowley when it comes to Antoni and how easy he is on the eye...


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Crowley go on their first date together. 
> 
> It turns out that ice cream dates are always the best way to get to know someone...

Ezra had a dilemma. 

What on earth did one wear on a lunch out? Was this a date? He sure as heck hoped so, or he was going to be feeling very silly later.

The previous night, the two men had been texting each other into the small hours of the morning. They’d talked about their favourite television shows, swapped Nintendo Switch friend codes and became Playstation 4 friends. They’d talked about silly things like their favourite weather, ice cream flavours and animals. Even the topic of Ezra’s work was mentioned briefly, when Crowley mentioned that Newton had ended up going into the back room to ‘have a lie down’ when he realised who Ezra was (Ezra was flattered, yet awkward about this).

When he’d woken up that morning to Oscar yowling for his breakfast outside his bedroom door, Ezra realised all that had taken place. He’d thought it all a really good dream until he checked his phone, and saw all the texts, including a new one: 

**_So, 12:30 at The Real Italian Gelato Company?_ ** __

Ezra quickly replied: 

_ That sounds rather lovely, though an unusual choice for lunch. I’ll see you then?  _

**_See you then, angel x_ **

In a fit of nerves, he had emptied out his wardrobe and chest of drawers, dumping all the contents on his bed. There was a ‘maybe’ pile that wasn’t very big, and a ‘definitely no way’ pile that was getting ever taller as Ezra rifled through his options. 

Oscar chose this particular moment to jump onto the bed and sit on top of a pile of shirts that Ezra was trying to make his way through. He purred as he circled around his chosen spot before plopping down ready to start his lunchtime nap. 

“You, bad cat!” Ezra said, trying to shoo his cheeky cat off of the pile of clothes, “Get off of there! You’ll get all of those covered in your fur, and the last thing I need is to give the very nice man who is taking me out for lunch today the impression that I am either a lonely crazy cat man or that I have so much hair that I’m having a summer moult.”

Oscar opened one of his eyes, glanced at his exasperated owner, before snuggling his head back down and promptly beginning his nap. Ezra sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face as he tried to compose himself. “Bloody cat,” he said, “Ungrateful cat! I take you in as a bedraggled kitten, feed you, love you, for three years and this is how you repay me? Shame on you, Oscar, shame on you!”

Oscar yawned, completely ignoring Ezra. 

Looks like he wasn’t wearing any of those shirts this lunchtime, Ezra thought, as he watched his cat deep in dreams of catnip and crunchy treats. 

This left him with a pile of t-shirts that he only dared wear around the house at home, some chino shorts, a pair of jeans he’d been persuaded by Gabriel to buy, but would not wear in a million years. There was a pile of short sleeved shirts that he’d forgotten he owned, in various shades of pastel colours, a few pairs of trousers in different shades of browns and greys. He’d even pulled out his bow tie collection, which he hadn’t done in a long time. 

He felt so very silly doing this like a teenage girl going out on a date with her first crush. Then again, he had been single for quite some time now. 

_ You should be so grateful, Ezra. I mean, it’s not like anyone else would want to be with someone like you… _

Ezra shook the thought out of his head. No. That man was wrong. He was wrong about him. 

Wasn’t he? 

He looked back at the piles of clothes on the bed. There was a pastel green short sleeved shirt poking out of one of the piles, a darker green bow tie leaning against the sleeve. Ezra pulled the two items up from the pile. He’d forgotten how green made him feel so centered, so calm. Yes, green must be a good choice, he thought to himself, as he laid them down together. 

OK, that’s at least one half of an outfit sorted, he thought to himself. Now he had to wrap it up with something that would work…

***

Crowley leaned against the tree outside the ice cream parlor. 

In the end he’d gone for his trusty leather jacket, which he’d slung on over one of his favourite Queen t-shirts. His jeans were dark and skin-tight and his black shoes shone in the midday sunlight. 

He hadn’t decided whether flowers would be too much, so he’d gotten a small bouquet on the way there. The arrangement mainly consisted of red carnations, with lilacs popping through the brightness, giving the arrangement a lovely light floral scent. Crowley hoped that Ezra liked flowers. 

Somebody, he was feeling nervous. 

He looked up, watching all the other people passing by. The high street was a living, thriving being on sunny afternoons like this one. It made Crowley happy that he was a part of this organism, and happier still that today he could stand back and watch it work. It was something that he didn’t always get to do in his day to day working life, so he appreciated every moment of it. The groups of teenagers grouping up in front of the clothes shops, giggling at something someone said. The couples, young and old, holding hands as they walked down the streets. Young women walking to the shops with a sense of purpose, chatting on the phone to a friend about some office gossip or other. He needed to come out here again soon, maybe with his sketchpad and pencils...

“Hello.”

Crowley turned and saw Ezra stood next to him. He must have been so deep in his people watching that he hadn’t seen or heard him walk up to him. He was dressed well, in a smart pair of chinos, and a pastel green shirt. Was that a bow tie he was wearing? Strangely, it seemed so right, Crowley thought. 

“Hello, angel,” Crowley said, “I like the bow tie.”

Ezra fiddled with it nervously. It was a shade of deep green, like pine trees. “You do? It’s not too much?”

“Nah, not at all,” Crowley replied, “If anything, it looks very good on you.”

Ezra blushed slightly, and looked away bashfully. 

“Seriously, you look  _ amazing _ ,” Crowley said, stepping closer, “Lucky me gets to have such a charming looking young man on my arm for a while,” he added, “I was worried this would be too much, to be honest,” he said, offering the flowers, “But I hope that you like them.”

Ezra’s eyes widened with surprise when he saw them. He looked up at Crowley, his expression saying  _ For me? Really? You sure?  _

“Oh! They are gorgeous, Crowley!” Ezra said, taking them gently from Crowley. 

Ezra took a gentle sniff of the flowers. They smelt so sweet, the scent of them soothing some of the nerves that were in his mind. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time that he had been given flowers, and such lovely ones too. 

He briefly remembered horrible petrol station bunches that looked bedraggled and sad whenever Lucien had come home late from staying behind at the office (he should have seen through such a cliche of a lie). These flowers looked like they had come from an actual florist, and chosen with care and love. 

He looked again at the choice of flowers. Carnations… romantic feelings. Lilacs… the first throes of love… 

For him. 

He looked up, and saw that Crowley was offering out his hand to him. Shyly, Ezra took his hand. Crowley’s fingers gently entwined with his own, slightly cool to the touch, yet so gentle. 

“I hope that this is alright,” Crowley said, as they headed towards the ice cream parlor entrance, “I am always an advocate of eating dessert for lunch whenever you get the opportunity.”

“That sounds like a very interesting thing to advocate for, my dear,” Ezra replied. 

Crowley chuckled. “Of course, there are bigger things than us that I can advocate for also, but how can we advocate for the larger picture if we do not advocate for the care of our own inner child?”

“You do have a good point,” Ezra said, “I never thought of it that way before.”

Crowley briefly let go of Ezra’s hand to open the door to the parlor. Ezra felt the loss of that hand more keenly than he thought he would do.

Crowley held the door open for Ezra as they walked into the parlor. 

The parlor had a fusion feel of the 1950’s American diner and an Italian gelato restaurant. The waitresses were in black poodle skirts and sky blue blouses. The space in the parlor was bright and fresh. The gelato counter was gleaming in the afternoon light, all the flavours brightly coloured and clearly labeled. There was everything from vanilla all the way to English Trifle and New York Cheesecake. They looked absolutely delectable, and Ezra couldn’t help but feel mesmerised by all the colours he could see. 

“I remember being just as in awe when I first came in here,” Crowley said, “They make everything all in house too, with fresh ingredients. Not a lot of places do that anymore, but this place is probably one of my favourite places in the high street.”

“I don’t know why I haven’t come in before, to be honest,” Ezra said.

“We’re here now, angel, that’s the most important part,” Crowley said. 

A waitress walked over to them, a younger girl with dark, wiry hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

“Hi! Welcome to The Real Italian Gelato Company! I’m Pepper, and I’ll be serving you today!” she said, before looking up at Crowley. “Hey there AJ! Long time no see! We’ve missed you around here!”

“I’ve been stuck at work, you know how it is in the summer months! All the extra shifts, especially the lunch time ones. This is the first free one I’ve had for ages!” Crowley said, “I thought I’d bring someone else with me today, so it’ll be a table for two this time,” he added, “this is Ezra,” he said, slipping his hand back into Ezra’s. 

“Hello,” Ezra replied, smiling gently, “It’s lovely to meet you!”

Pepper grinned, “It’s great to see that even AJ can be soft and nice every so often,” she said, grabbing two menus from the waitress station, “Follow me, I’ll find you two a good spot!” she turned to Crowley with a smirk, “Just you wait until Adam and Brian hear about this!”

Crowley rolled his eyes in a good-natured manner, “I’m sure they will chatter on about it for years to come, Pepper,” he said. 

Pepper showed them to a lovely table in the corner, that was underneath its own little window. The sunlight kept the corner warm enough to keep diners comfortable. “It’s a miracle that this table was free,” Pepper said, “It’s usually always occupied, but you can have it today.”

Crowley pulled a chair back, and offered it to Ezra. 

Ezra took a seat, as Crowley carefully pushed the chair into the right place, before taking a seat himself. The flowers were placed onto the table. 

Pepper disappeared for a moment, then came back with a large milkshake glass, filled halfway with water. “Thought it would be a shame to not give those flowers some water,” she said, picking them up carefully and placing them in the glass. She then put the glass back down onto the table. Now they looked even happier than they had done before, the water seeming to refresh the petals. 

She then had to bustle off to check on a group of teenagers that had just walked in, giving Crowley and Ezra an opportunity to have a look at the menu. 

There was a whole section of the menu devoted to crepes with different selections of sweet and savoury fillings.  _ Crepes…  _ That wasn’t something that he’d had in quite some time. Not since Paris… 

_ Really Ezra?  _ A niggly voice, thick with a faux-pleasant drawl said,  _ You really should go for the fruit salad, so much better for you. It’s not like you need any more softness. Look, it’s even got pears. You like pears… _

“Are you OK?”

Ezra looked up and saw Crowley looking at him over his sunglasses. His expression was one of gentle concern. 

“Yes,” Ezra said, quickly clearing his throat as he shook off that goddamn awful memory. He wasn’t in Paris now, he was here in this wonderful parlor, with someone that might actually like him. 

“Are you sure?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow, “It didn’t seem that you were here.”

It was at this moment that Pepper returned, with three other people. There were two young men, one covered in what looked to be chocolate ice cream, the other with fussy, mussed up curls, who were both wearing aprons, holding hands and looking at Crowley and Ezra in disbelief. The other young man with them was wearing a pale blue shirt, thick glasses and black trousers. 

“So, it’s true,” the mussed up haired young man said, “Crowley has finally brought a date here for our approval!”

“Shush, Adam, it’s only the first date!” Crowley said, blushing slightly.

“AHA! So you admit it,” the chocolate covered young man said, “You’ve softened up, Crowley!”

“He has indeed, Brian,” the bespectacled young man said, “It’s actually rather nice to see!”

“Alright you lot, you’ve had your gawk,” Pepper said, “Now I’ve got to take their orders, so back to your jobs before The Horsemen get down our throats!” She looked at the bespectacled young man, “You too, Wensleydale!”

The men all scattered. 

Pepper sighed, and turned back to Crowley and Ezra. “I am so sorry about that,” she said to Ezra, “They are so nosy! Now, what can I get for you?”

Crowley looked at Ezra, who looked at him nervously. Crowley took this as a cue to put his order in first. “I’ll have the hot toffee apple sundae, and a coffee milkshake?”

Ezra took a deep breath. He could do this. He could order whatever he damn well liked.

“I’ll have the french crepes? With a scoop of vanilla ice cream and strawberries? With the strawberry milkshake?” he said nervously. 

“Good choice! Adam is especially good at the crepes, if I say so myself!” Pepper said, taking the menus away, “I’ll get those right to you!”

When Pepper left them, Crowley looked at Ezra. “Are you sure you’re OK? I didn’t overstep, did I?”

Ezra looked away from Crowley, blushing slightly with shame. “Not at all, dear boy,” Ezra replied, “It happens sometimes,” he admitted, “Things might remind me of something that isn’t, well, quite so happy as things are right now.”

Crowley took a sharp breath. How on earth did he not recognise what was right in front of him? The shyness? The sense of over-modesty? The fact that he let Crowley do most of the talking, trying his best to melt into the paintwork? He’d seen friends battle these things before. Someone had hurt this wonderful, talented and beautiful man. He wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt him and hurt them so much that they would beg for the sweet release of death. 

No, that wasn’t quite the way to go about things. Ezra was here now, opposite him, looking embarrassed and full of shame at revealing himself in such a manner. It was such a brave thing for him to do, and Crowley felt a sense of honour that he was being let into something so intimate, so raw. 

All Crowley wanted to do was to grab him and hold him close, promise that he’d never let anyone hurt him in any way ever again. But he had to content himself with taking Ezra’s hand that was laid on the table. Oh, someone, he could feel it trembling slightly. 

Crowley took a deep breath to calm his anger at whoever had been so horrible to the angel of a man opposite him. “Whatever or whoever has made you feel like you aren’t worthy, or not enough, are awful, and not at all worth our time and energy in even thinking about them. You are perfect, just the way you are,” Crowley said, “I know that is far easier for me to say, than for you to do, but, please, if you’ll let me, let me be there for you.”

Ezra squeezed his hand back, a small smile on his lips. It looked like he was trying his very best not to cry. 

“Thank you for saying that,” Ezra said, “I suppose I need to hear that every once in a while. It’s difficult, liking someone like me. I just don’t want to drag you down.”

“You won’t drag me anywhere,” Crowley said, “Except onto the stage of course, but that’s another conversation starter,” he added with a wink, which made Ezra laugh slightly. 

It was at this point that Pepper arrived with their food and drinks. 

She placed the sundae and crepes in front of them, followed by the milkshakes, before leaving them to their lunches and conversation in peace. 

“Wait a moment,” Ezra said, “you said  _ stage _ ? You never said you were an actor? You’ll have to explain yourself there, my dear.”

Crowley swallowed a spoonful of his sundae and laughed. The way that he threw his head back and laughed with such abandon that it made Ezra smile. 

“I suppose you could call me an  _ actor  _ of sorts, angel,” he said, “Though you won’t be finding my act on the West End stage unless it’s in  _ Kinky Boots _ .”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “That sounds ever so exciting,” he said, “Are you performing any time soon?”

Crowley grinned, “Next week, actually, I managed to get a spot at The Eastern Gate in their cabaret night.”

“I bet you’re really good,” Ezra said, taking a bite of his crepes. Oh, these were absolutely scrumptious, he thought to himself as he carried on eating them. The milkshake was not too sweet, but really creamy and light. 

“How about you come next Saturday night and find out?” Crowley asked with a wink. 

“I would really like that, if it is not going to be a bother for you?”

“Honestly, angel, it would be an honour having you there. You never know, it might even inspire you!”

It was at this point that Ezra realised that his hand was still in Crowley’s. The fact that it had felt so very right wasn’t lost on him. Despite the feeling that he should probably let go, a deeper feeling, somewhere in the depths of his heart, told him to hold on, hold on tight and to not let go. He didn’t let go. 

“You could very well be right,” Ezra replied, “Very right indeed.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> You'll have no doubt noticed that we took a week off of posting! Because I had the time booked off anyway to go on a Scout Camp that never happened because plague, I took a very much needed break from my real life (my job is up for redundancy, and I've been spending a lot of time at work doing way more than I'm paid to do, so I've been exhausted!) to go on a holiday with friends to Wales (even drove through Port Talbot, but no Sheen Spots, sadly!). I am now back, rested and raring to go!
> 
> So, the place that Ezra and Crowley go to for their date is very heavily inspired by a real place in the city of Bath where I currently live, called The Real Italian Ice Cream Company. They make gelato in the traditional Italian way, and have a rotating selection of flavours so you never taste them all! The location I have set the fic in is definitely the UK, with influences of Bath/Bristol, where I have spent the majority of my adult life. 
> 
> Also, I oofed myself when writing this chapter very slightly, as the quotes that Ezra recalls are almost verbatim of my ex fiance and the way he'd treat me when we were together. Like Ezra, I do project a bit into my stories. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience thus far, and we'll see you here again next week!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys find themselves in the park, chuckling about ducks, when Ezra starts to finally feel brave and lets himself begin again...

“So, what you were saying is that you thought that ducks didn’t have ears?”

The two men were sat on a park bench by the duck pond. They’d spent a while feeding oats and bread crumbs to the ducks, talking about anything and everything. 

“How on earth was I supposed to know that ducks actually had ears?” Crowley replied, “I mean, it’s not like they have any on their heads?”

“Next you will be telling me that you believe that duck’s quacks do not echo,” Ezra said, smirking at Crowley, a gleam of cheekiness in his eye. 

“You mean, they don’t?” Crowley said, with a dramatic expression of disbelief on his face, “Oh, my whole world-view has been shattered in an instant! What should I do with my life now?” he added. 

“That was disproven ages ago, my dear,” Ezra said, raising an eyebrow, “Back as far as 2003. A professor of acoustics went and did a load of experiments to prove that their quacks do, indeed, have an echo. A quiet one perhaps, which is why the myth is prevalent in avian legends, but an echo nonetheless.”

“In that case, I do believe that the professor conducting such an experiment must have been…” Crowley said, keeping his face as dead-pan as he possibly could, “Absolutely quackers!”

Ezra looked at Crowley deadly seriously for a moment, until he registered the joke that Crowley had cracked, and let out a rather good humoured groan. “Very good, my dear,” he said, “I shall have to let that roll off me, like…” Ezra paused, for dramatic effect, “Water off of a duck’s back.”

Crowley registered what Ezra said, and laughed. He threw back his head, his hair fluttering gently in the afternoon breeze as he laughed, without any abandon. 

“That’s a rather good one, angel,” Crowley said, letting an arm lean against the back of the bench lazily. He then brought it up so that it was behind Ezra. 

It was at this moment that Ezra realised how closely they were sitting together. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s arm behind him. Nervously, Ezra scooched a bit closer towards Crowley, looking up at him to make sure that it was ok for him to be close to him. 

Crowley looked at Ezra, smiling gently. “It’s OK, angel,” he said, “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

They were face to face now. So close. Ezra could almost feel Crowley’s breath against his cheek. He looked into Crowley’s eyes, for he had taken off his sunglasses to let them be unobstructed. The way that Crowley looked at him was so tender, like Ezra was the only thing that he could see at that moment. 

Crowley started to slowly lean into Ezra. 

He could feel his heart thumping in his chest, like it was trying to pick up his body and run away from this place. What should he do? He wanted this, more than anything that he had ever wanted before. But, did this mean that Crowley really did want him? Like, seriously want him? 

_ Nobody else will love someone like you… _

**_No. That isn’t true. I won’t let you tell me that anymore, I am going to be happy, and you shall not stop me!_ **

Ezra lifted his face, to meet Crowley’s lips with his own. 

Oh… 

So this is what a kiss should feel like? He thought, as he felt Crowley’s arm around his shoulders, his lips moving softly against his own. It was warm, so safe. He felt like he was soaring through the air, without any fear that he would fall. This was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It just felt so  _ right _ . 

It felt like so long, but so short a moment before the kiss was very reluctantly broken.

“That was... “ Crowley said. 

“Yes, quite…” Ezra replied, still blushing slightly, “I take it that you like me then?”

Crowley chuckled, pulling Ezra closer to his side, letting his arm fall over Ezra’s shoulders. “I rather think I do like you, I like you a lot, which might seem weird, considering how quick all this is happening,” he said, “But I’ll go at your pace, because I like you, and want what is best for you. That is, obviously, if you like me too?”

Ezra leaned in, and kissed Crowley on the lips, this time a bit more confident in leading. He could feel Crowley sinking into the embrace, kissing him like he needed oxygen, and the main source was Ezra. Eventually they released each other from this embrace, but staying close, Ezra leaning his forehead against Crowley’s. 

“I do like you. I like you immensely,” Ezra said, “It is a tad fast, but I suppose that these things are simply ineffable.”

Crowley chuckled softly. After a moment, he turned back to face the duckpond, yet keeping Ezra in his arms. 

They sat for a moment in a blissful silence. Looking out across the duck pond from their bench, Ezra leaning his head gently on Crowley’s shoulder, watching the ducks swimming on the pond surface. The sun was still shining, although the breeze was now slightly cooler than it had been before. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, as groups of children played in the nearby play park. 

For the first time in a long time, Ezra felt perfectly happy where he was. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been out of schedule with posting! I've been going through the process of being made redundant, and all the squicky feelings that are associated with this, so thank you all for your patience!
> 
> I'm so proud of Ezra in this chapter, really standing up to his demons and being brave. It's a turning point for him, that's for sure!
> 
> The research Ezra mentions is a genuine one that was conducted in 2003, here's the article from The Guardian written at the time: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2003/sep/08/sciencenews.theguardianlifesupplement#:~:text=Scientists%20have%20solved%20one%20of,is%20very%20difficult%20to%20hear.
> 
> I may have listened to the song Begin Again by Taylor Swift from the Blend of Paradise Playlist that Sev created over on Spotify on loop. If you spot the references, then give yourselves an extra latte!
> 
> I may have enjoyed the Duck Puns too much.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is walking on air after his date with Ezra, whist Ezra tries to get on with making the next deadline for his novel, but Oscar has other ideas...
> 
> (warning for some swearing, and a cat hunting, though no blood or death, if that's an issue)

When Crowley walked into the coffee shop to start his shift early the next morning with an uncharacteristically large grin on his face, Anathema knew that the jig was up. 

“So…” she said, as Crowley unhooked his apron from his peg and tied it around his waist, “I’m assuming things went well with A.Z. Fell?”

“Yes, but that’s none of your business, you nosy witch,” Crowley replied, a sweeter note to his tone than usual. 

“I’m one of your best friends in the world, Anthony James Crowley,” Anathema said, “You will spill the tea about everything that happened on that date, so help me Somebody.”

Crowley strode to the coffee machine behind the counter, and started preparing the machine ready for opening up the shop to the morning commuters. He popped open the coffee bean funnel for the coffee grinder, then ripped open a bag of coffee beans. The scent of freshly roasted beans wafted around him, and he took a deep breath of the deep, heady aroma. It was enough to wake him up slightly, before he was able to make his first coffee of the shift. 

“What is there to know, honestly?” Crowley said, “We went out for lunch, talked, you know, the stuff you do on a first date? Nothing particularly exciting.”

“If nothing exciting happened, Crowley, you wouldn’t be in here with a smile larger than the Cheshire Cat storming the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, and that is the honest truth!”

“Shut up!” Crowley drawled, as he poured the coffee beans into the funnel and snapped the lid shut. He flicked the switch of the grinder on, listening to the whir of the blades in the machine as the beans got ground up to the right consistency for making espresso. Crowley sighed, letting the sound lull him into the back of a daydream…

_ They’d talked for ages after that kiss. The sun slowly set as they talked about things that had been, things that could be. He could still feel the weight of the angel’s head on his shoulder, smell the fresh scent of cut grass of the park and the tang of lemon, probably from the angel’s cologne. What was this feeling? The one that was seated deep in his chest, growling with every moment the angel was by his side. It was like nothing else seemed to matter, other than living in the moment.  _

“Crowley,  _ WATCH OUT! _ ” 

Crowley hadn’t been paying attention to where he had leaned his arm. To his horror, he was about to knock into the coffee bean grinder. Everything fell into slow motion, like one of those embarrassing moments in the children’s films when something spills for comedic effect. Except that this was a case of a scrambling man who was all arms and legs trying, a moment too late, to save the machine and the product that was inside it. The lid came off of the funnel, and espresso powder puffed all over Crowley, the counter and the floor. 

Luckily Anathema wasn’t in the firing line, so was unscathed by the coffee explosion. She rushed forward, flicking off the machine. “This really isn’t like you, AJ,” Anathema said fondly as she swept up as much as she could off of the side, working out what could possibly be salvaged, and binning what was left. 

“I’m sorry, Ana,” Crowley said, his cheeks slightly red with embarrassment, “I’ll pay more attention, do better.”

“I actually think that a love-struck Crowley is a nicer Crowley to be around,” Anathema said, “If that means I have to clean up a few more spills here and there, I shan’t be complaining! Not to mention you aura looks so much, well, happier.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “You know that nobody really cares about auras, Ana,” he said. 

“You say that, but the aura I saw when the two of you met the other day was unlike anything I had ever seen in my life!” Anathema said, smirking as she redid the set up for the bean grinder, “It was like the two of you were lit up like a Christmas tree! So many pinks and reds. For a moment I could barely see anything else! It felt like I was in a Hallmark movie, but in a really lovely way.”

“I thought that going out with that writer would stop you lot clucking around instead of doing what you’ve been hired to do!”

“Ah, good morning to you Beelz,” Anathema said brightly, as she got the coffee beans grinding again, “How was last night?”

“Never mind that, the place looks like a bomb was let off in it, and we open in ten minutes, not to mention that the bakery delivery is late again,” Beelz huffed, “I’m sure that Crowley will be more than happy to gossip when he’s on till duty once things are ticking along.”

Crowley didn’t say anything, instead opting to instead prepare the food display cabinet for the pastry and cake delivery that was due any minute. He started to wipe the shelves down with a cloth, as he tried to work out what on earth was going on in his chest. There wasn’t usually much merit in Anathema’s talk about auras and other occult things, except when she gave advice for potential parts to his act. This time though, she’d touched on something that he never thought would affect him so. He’d never been so charmed by anyone before. Sure, he found people attractive. Sure, he’d tumbled around here and there. But this writer… this angel… it was like he’d put a spell on him…

_ I put a spell on you… and now you’re mine. _

He suddenly had an idea. 

“Hey, Ana, I know this is a bit mad,” Crowley said, “But I think I might have a plan for my act next Saturday.”

***

“Come on now, Oscar, none of that please. I have a deadline…”

Ezra was stuck in quite a pickle. His beloved terror of a cat was sprawled out like a sunbathing supermodel on top of his open laptop, with absolutely no intention of moving. 

Ezra sighed. “You are giving me absolutely no choice, my dear boy, no choice whatsoever,” he said, before he picked Oscar up gingerly. Oscar wriggled and hissed slightly in indignation of being removed forcibly from his napping spot. “Now, now, dear, you know I have to get some work done, I promise that I’ll give you some catnip for your trouble later, don’t look at me like that!” he said, as he put Oscar down outside his study’s door. “It’s a nice day out, my boy, the cat flap is unlocked, go keep out of trouble!” he said, closing the door quickly in order to prevent his wily feline from darting back into the room. 

Finally, Ezra could put down his mug of tea on his desk and begin setting up for a morning of writing. He looked up at the wall in front of his desk, where various sheets of paper with timelines, family trees and other important plot points were tacked up. He sat down in front of the laptop, and woke it up. 

Then he typed in his password to get into the laptop to start work. 

Oh. 

Oh no.

Fuck.

He tried again. But nothing was being typed onto the screen. The mouse cursor was also struggling to move. 

“Bloody cat!” Ezra cried in frustration, “What the heaven am I going to do now? Oh, Gabriel is going to have my head, I swear!”

Ezra got up from his chair, and started to pace around the room, trying to calm himself down. Oscar was just a cat, how was he supposed to know that lying on the laptop might cause issues if certain buttons get pressed in a certain way?

He tried to think of what to do. He was dreadful at technology at the best of times. It confused the heck out of him, but sadly everything was done via the internet and computing these days. Gabriel had laughed when he’d suggested that he could send the manuscript typed out on his beloved typewriter. The clacking of the keys, the clunking of the bar all comforted him, and brought him into a sense of calm, the little ding at the end of each line motivated him to keep writing. Could he honestly be bothered to go into the loft to grab it and type up some handwritten stuff that he’d have to retype back out on the laptop anyway? No, that would be a fool’s errand, regardless of how comforting the thought of clicking away was. 

Ezra tried to log into the computer again. Still no typing. He groaned in annoyance, before scrambling for his phone. Maybe he could google the situation, that might help him get to the bottom of this. 

As he opened up the phone’s search engine, he tried to type in what he was experiencing. However, so many different responses were coming up in the list of results that it confused him to the point of putting the phone back down in annoyance. Nothing seemed to be helping him get anything productive done. 

That was when Ezra heard a bump on the windowsill. 

“What on Earth?” 

He turned round, and saw Oscar, perched on the windowsill, looking very proud of himself. 

“Oh, good lord…” Ezra gasped. 

There, in Oscar’s mouth, flapping away, was a green and yellow budgerigar.

The budgerigar owned by the grumpy man who lived in the house next door. 

It was a miracle that Oscar was too soft and lazy and never really killed anything. He just liked to catch things and play with them for a while. Ezra groaned louder and opened the window carefully. He had not planned to spend the time he was supposed to be writing wrestling a budgie out of his wicked cat’s mouth, but here he was, scruffing an angry Oscar and prising a frightened bird out of his mouth and getting a rather good scratching and biting for his trouble. “You horrible, nasty cat!” Ezra shrieked, as Oscar nipped his teeth into the back of his hand, making him unceremoniously drop Oscar on the ground. 

Luckily he’d managed to close the window behind him, so once the bird was freed, it was able to just fly up to the curtain rail out of Oscar’s reach. Oscar took this opportunity to sit on Ezra’s desk chair and start cleaning himself off as if nothing untoward had taken place. Ezra looked down at his hand, which luckily hadn’t broken the skin. It was more the fact that Oscar had bitten him in the first place that was the major sore point. 

“It’s alright for you,” Ezra said to Oscar grumpily, “You don’t have to try and get the budgie that you birdnapped back to its rightful owner!”

Oscar simply looked at Ezra, before returning to cleaning himself. 

“Ugh,” Ezra said, scrubbing his face with his hand, “How am I meant to explain this to Gabriel?” he sighed, “‘Oh, good afternoon Mr. Archer’, no, too formal… How about, ‘sup Buddy!’ no, certainly not, he’ll think I’ve well and truly lost my marbles! Not to mention Shadwell, who I’m not on the best of terms with, Oscar, you know how he dislikes you, and you’ve not made your case any better in regards to his views.” 

Oscar looked back at Ezra, with a face that said ‘does it look like I give a shit what that homophobic so called witchhunter thinks of me?’, before curling up and falling into a rather cosy nap.

With a deep groan, Ezra let himself lean his back against the wall, staring at the budgie, which was looking rather well, considering it had been in the mouth of a cat. It was fluffing and readjusting its wings, looking quite happy to be out of harm’s way. How on earth was he going to pacify Shadwell this time? In between calling him a ‘southern pansy’, and accusing him of being a witch because he had a black cat and wrote about magic in his novels, he wasn’t exactly keen on Ezra at the best of times. Adding a birdnapping charge was surely going to make things so much worse…

The tune to  _ Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy _ started to play from Ezra’s phone that was sat on his desk next to the unresponsive laptop. 

With a grunt of effort, Ezra pushed himself off of the wall, and walked over to the desk. He looked at the screen, which said  _ Crowley _ , alongside a selfie of the two of them at the duck park. The selfie had been an impulse, Crowley holding the camera, wrapping his arms around Ezra to get the angle to ensure both of them were in shot. His hair was glowing in the afternoon sun, whilst Ezra had a quiet, gentle smile, like he was at peace for the first time in a long time. With a sigh, Ezra answered the call. 

“Hey, angel,” Crowley said, “How’s things going?”

“Could be better, to be honest, my dear,” Ezra replied, “Is it weird that I’m glad to hear your voice right now?”

He heard Crowley chuckle softly at the other end of the phone. “Not at all,” Crowley replied, “It sounds like I called at just the right time. What’s going on?”

“If I tell you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“How do you know unless you tell me? I'm all ears.”

“So, you know I told you that I have a very naughty, bratty cat called Oscar?”

“Yes, you showed me so many photos, angel, he’s gorgeous.”

“Well, you won’t be thinking as much in a moment,” Ezra said, glaring at his snoozing cat, “When I tell you he is in fact a saboteur and a birdnapper.”

Crowley laughed. “Those are some very strong accusations on such a beautiful cat, angel,” he said. 

“He slept on my laptop today and he’s done something to it so that I can’t type my password into my laptop. Then I let him out, and he came back  _ with my neighbour’s budgerigar _ .”

“He did  _ what _ ?”

“He birdnapped my neighbour’s budgie. Which is now perched on my curtain rail in my study  _ and I don’t know how I am meant to retrieve it and take it back to my neighbour. _ ”

Now Crowley really was laughing. He could hear that melodic laughter. Was he throwing his head back the way he did when he was laughing really hard? 

“It’s not  _ funny _ ,” Ezra said, although in fact, it was a pretty funny predicament he found himself in. 

“Tell you what,” Crowley said, “I’ve just finished my shift, how about you tell me where this birdnap victim is, and I’ll come over and help you sort things out. I might even have some pastries from this morning left over…”

“You’d… come over here?”

“Of course! I’d love nothing more than to slither on over and watch you drink tea, eat pastries and bird-wrangle. Not to mention I’ll get to meet the infamous Oscar…”

Ezra found himself chuckling. “Yes, not that he deserves such attention from someone so wonderful as you.”

“Oh, hush, angel. Text me the address, I’ll be over as soon as I can! Ciao!”

“Bye, Crowley.”

Ezra then quickly texted the address to Crowley. He then put the phone down as if it were suddenly red-hot. 

Crowley was coming over. 

Oh, fuck.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter The Fuckin' Budgie(TM). 
> 
> So, when Sev and I were paired for the DIWS Mini Bang Project, they made us a mini-Discord server, just for the two of us to share WIPs, chat and brain storm ideas for this fic. At the time, not a bit of art had been made for BoP (I only had a title and a brief summary/premise), so for the server icon, Sev chose a random picture of a budgie. I thought this was very random, and very hilarious, so insisted that I wanted a reference to a budgie as a little nod to this, a little 'in-joke', if you will. 
> 
> However, several DIWS Server Writing sprints later, and this whole *thing* came out of it. When I shared bits of what I was writing with Sev, they said, 'Ah, the fuckin' budgie...' (or at least, something along those lines), so for a while, before we actually named the budgie (I'm not telling you its name yet, shhhhhh), so we called it The Fuckin' Budgie for a little while. 
> 
> Yes, the budgie is a plot point now. Yes, there will be more shenanigans. Shhhhh, I don't make the rules. 
> 
> I will go back to uploading on Sundays, especially now my redundancy is Official. I'm OK, now it's all sinking in, I just now have to go through the process of finding something else...


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission Budgie Rescue is GO!
> 
> Ezra and Crowley discuss boundaries and expectations. 
> 
> (TW for mild homophobic language and a threat to hurt an animal)

Crowley walked down the street to Ezra’s house. His leather rucksack was slung over his shoulder, filled with some pastries from the morning that would have only been thrown out, his sketch pad and his apron that needed washing. He also had his spare t-shirt that he always had in the bottom of his bag in case he was going somewhere after work. 

He was going to Ezra’s house. 

As he got closer to the location, Crowley felt himself suddenly get very nervous. He was about to enter the home of someone he really liked, and not just in the middle of the night to scratch an itch. It was the middle of the afternoon, and there was apparently a budgie that needed to be brought down from a curtain rail. 

All very innocent, if not hilarious. Not that Ezra sounded like he found it very funny at all. He’d sounded very stressed and frustrated on the other end of the phone, like he was at his wits end. It couldn’t have been a great start to his day. He hoped that he’d be able to help. 

Crowley found himself outside what must be Ezra’s house. He guessed that this was the case because at the front door, hammering at it with his fist, was a very cross older man wearing a green cagoule with crudely stitched fabric badges on it.

“Open up you great Southern Pansy!” he roared, as he kept beating at the door, “I know you have her in there, against her will! Open up, before I drown that infernal cat myself!”

Oh, boy. 

Crowley took a deep breath and opened the front gate. He walked down the garden path, putting on his best Customer Service smile as he composed himself carefully. The last thing anyone needed was someone screaming murder and abuse on their doorstep.

“Hello, sir,” Crowley said brightly, “Is everything alright?”

The man stopped mid-knock and turned to face Crowley. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, with white, balding hair and an unkempt beard. 

“Who are you?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” Crowley replied, “And why are you here trying to break the door down and spouting all sorts of horrible things?”

“This pansy’s bloody cat has my prize budgerigar, and I want it back!” the man shouted, red in the face. 

“I’m sure that it’s all been a misunderstanding,” Crowley said, trying very hard not to get angry at the language the man was using. This must be the ‘grumpy’ neighbor that Ezra had mentioned to him over the phone. He took a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m sure that the cat was just being a cat, and doesn’t understand just how precious your budgie is,” he said, “And I am sure that Ezra would be more than happy to help you get your budgie back into your care.”

The front door opened, and a very frustrated looking Ezra stood in the doorway. He was wearing an old-looking black tshirt with ‘Gay by Day, Zombie Slayer by Night’ printed on it in red and white spooky writing, and a pair of red tartan pyjama bottoms. His hair was ruffled, an explosion of curls as if he had been running his fingers through it in some form of annoyance. 

“Oh, hello Shadwell,” Ezra said, his tone polite, yet laced with a tinge of anger, “There is a perfectly good doorbell on the doorframe.”

“You know why I’m here, you great big pansy,” the man, Shadwell, bellowed, “If you can’t control that devilspawn of a cat, I assure you that I can find a nice big bucket of water to deal with him with.”

“He is just a cat, Shadwell! If you insist on leaving your window open where the bird lives, flying free, of course an animal will go in and catch it!” Ezra replied, sounding even more indignant, “You can’t go around threatening to kill a cat just because he did exactly what cats do!”

The rage in the air between the two men was palpable. Crowley never thought he’d ever witness the quiet, gentle and kind man he had met getting angry. Like, a deep, embedded rage kind of angry. Was it strange that he looked more attractive than usual when he was furious? He was like an avenging angel, guarding his gate. 

“Shadwell, is it?” Crowley said, “Listen, I’m sure that your bird is alright, though with ruffled feathers,” he continued, “How about you head on home, and we’ll get your budgie back to you, unharmed, right, Ezra?”

“Right,” Ezra replied curtly. 

“There, that wasn’t so hard,” Crowley said sweetly, “Off you pop then!”

Shadwell turned on his heel, and stomped off back down the garden path, muttering obscenities as he slammed the front garden gate with a clang.

Ezra took a deep breath. “I am so sorry about my neighbour,” he said, “He’s very vocal when he’s angry, you shouldn’t of had to have been in the middle of that.”

“Honestly, it’s no problem,” Crowley replied, “Besides, aren’t I here to rescue the budgie in question?”

“I suppose you’d better come on in,” Ezra said, stepping to one side to let Crowley in, shutting the door gently behind him. 

It felt good to shut the world away after the Shadwell Situation, Ezra thought as he locked the door. Now it was just him and Crowley. Not that it was such a bad thing, just rather nerve-wracking. After all, he hadn’t had a man over for a long time, not since…

No, he wasn’t going to let himself think of that. Right now, Crowley was here, and that was enough. 

“So, budgie. Let’s see what we’re working with here?”

“Of course,” Ezra said, “follow me, the study is up here.”

They walked up the stairs. There were photographs on the walls of a black cat at various stages of growing up, and one particularly adorable one of Ezra cuddling a little black kitten and smiling broadly that was hung next to what seemed to be the door to the study. Crowley’s heart melted ever so slightly as he studied it for a moment. Ezra stood next to him, and noticed what Crowley was looking at. 

“Ah, the little hellion himself, back when he was sweet and innocent,” Ezra said, chuckling, “Oh, I wonder where I went wrong with the parenting…”

“I’m sure you are an excellent cat dad,” Crowley said. He slipped his hand into Ezra’s and gave it a little squeeze. Crowley felt Ezra’s hand relax slightly from what was clearly a lot of tension. 

Ezra then opened the study door and led Crowley into the room. 

Ezra’s study was a cosy little room, with a desk backed up against a wall, with a cork board filled with various notes about characters, world building and plot devices. There were the odd reference picture or two of armour and fine courtly clothing too. The rest of the walls had framed newspaper clippings of tour announcements for book signings, an MCM London Comic Con Guest pass and a photograph of Ezra shaking hands with a tall man in a grey suit and lavender bow tie. The desk had a laptop on it, a load of papers and notes, a jar of what looked to be cat treats and a pot of pencils. There was also a desk lamp on it, probably for late night writing sessions. On the desk chair, was a black cat, curled up and snoozing that Crowley now knew to be Oscar. 

Crowley then looked up at the curtain rail. And there, sure enough, was perched a budgie. 

“So, that’s the source of all your problems, right now?” Crowley asked. 

“The biggest one is sitting in that chair,” Ezra replied, giving the snoozing cat a half-hearted glare. He let go of Crowley’s hand, then walked over to the chair, scooping up the cat in his arms. “This is Oscar,” Ezra said, showing off the sleek, large cat. Oscar’s eyes opened, and regarded the man that was standing in front of him lazily. He then stretched in Ezra’s arms, causing him to be carefully placed onto the floor. Oscar then sauntered over to Crowley, sniffing his legs as he rubbed his body against them. 

“Hello, Oscar,” Crowley said, crouching down so that he could give the cat a good scritch, Oscar purred and leaned into the attention and fuss, rubbing his cheeks all over Crowley’s hands, before dropping down and sprawling all over the floor. 

“Such a bloody tart,” Ezra said, chuckling as he watched Crowley fussing Oscar. 

Crowley got back up after a while. He turned back to Ezra. “So, what do you suggest we do in regards to this budgie then?”

They looked back up at the bird, which looked at them mockingly before it went back to grooming its feathers. 

“Well, neither of us can reach to grab it,” Ezra said, “I did think about using my desk chair, but that has wheels on it, and that’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Silly idea,” Crowley said, after thinking for a moment, “but would you be able to sit me on your shoulders? That way we’d be able to reach the budgie, and one of us would have our hands free to grab it?”

“That might be able to work,” Ezra said, “I’ll give anything a go at this rate.”

Ezra carefully knelt down, then Crowley gently sat on his shoulders. “Ready?” Crowley asked. 

“Yes,” Ezra said, carefully standing back up. 

They must look like a right sight at the moment, Ezra thought to himself as he slowly walked over to the curtain rail, partially to not frighten the bird into flying away, and also so that he could handle the new weight balancing on his shoulders. He could feel his heart racing with the effort of carrying Crowley, but also the fact that it was Crowley on his shoulders. 

Meanwhile, Crowley was a mixture of feelings. The extra height felt weird as he balanced on Ezra’s shoulders. He was of course rather determined to get the budgie so that Ezra wouldn’t be harassed by his horrible neighbour any more. Also, the fact that Ezra was able to hoist him up like this without too much trouble was rather… arousing, to say the least. 

They finally got towards the curtain rail. The budgie didn’t look all that fussed by the fact that there were two fully-grown men approaching it on piggy-back. Oscar watched, looking as amused as a black cat possibly could in this scenario. 

Ezra leaned Crowley in gently. Crowley reached out to the bird slowly, cupping his hands around the creature with a gentle firmness so that it couldn’t fly away from him. 

“Gotcha!” Crowley said. Ezra then carefully lowered himself back down so that Crowley could get off of his shoulders. Reluctantly, Crowley climbed off of Ezra’s shoulders. He was still carefully clutching the budgie in his hands. 

There was suddenly a rather loud thudding at the front door. 

“I’m sure we said we’d bring him the damn budgie to his house!” Crowley grumbled.

“Ah, Shadwell never listens to anything anyone says,” Ezra said with a groan, “Pass me the budgie, and I’ll get it out of our hair.”

Crowley handed the bird over, then Ezra left the room. Crowley heard Ezra run down the stairs and open the front door. He heard Shadwell yelling at Ezra, then Ezra talking very firmly back, before the door slammed. After a moment, Ezra came back up the stairs and into the study. 

“I’m glad that’s all sorted,” he said, “How on earth am I meant to thank you?” he asked. 

Crowley made a show of having a think about it. “Perhaps a kiss would be a good start,” he replied cheekily. 

“Oh, a kiss?” Ezra said, “Just a kiss?”

“Perhaps,” Crowley replied. 

Ezra stepped forward, suddenly looking rather bashful. They were now standing close to each other. “Would you stay?” he asked quietly. 

“I’m not planning on going anywhere, angel,” Crowley replied, “I’m right here.”

“Kiss me?” Ezra asked. 

Crowley closed the gap between them as he placed his lips onto Ezra’s. He could feel Ezra’s hands flat on his chest, as he wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him gently closer. Ezra’s hands slid up his chest, then looped over Crowley’s neck. Ezra deepened the kiss, pressing his body against Crowley’s. He could smell the roasted coffee mixed with smoke and autumn intermingled with bubblegum and something that seemed to be just Crowley. After a moment, the kiss was reluctantly broken. Crowley stroked Ezra’s cheek with his hand as they stayed in that embrace. The way that Crowley looked at him was so loving, full of longing. 

They couldn’t resist going back in for another kiss. This kiss, however, spoke much deeper than the one before it. It said, ‘I want you, no I need you’, as the pace quickened, the heat rose and the control began to slip away slightly. After breaking off again, the two of them stood there, panting to get their breath back, feeling each other’s presence in their space. 

Crowley let go and stepped back slightly. Ezra suddenly looked sad at this sudden distancing between them, and looked away. 

“No, no, angel, it’s nothing bad, I promise,” Crowley said, “I just… I just don’t want to mess this up.”

Ezra looked confused. “Why would you think that, my darling?” he asked, as he stepped back forward, and took Crowley’s hands in his own. 

Darling… oh Someone, he was in trouble, Crowley thought. The way he said it was so tender, so soft and warm. 

“I often go rather fast when it comes to this sort of thing,” Crowley confessed, “It ends up becoming like a drive-by shoot, except with jumping into my emotions head first, then into bed, then it all ends in an explosion right in my face. People always tell me I jump the gun,” he gabbled, “I don’t want to rush you, or hurt you in any way, angel. I know it’s been a few days, but, shit, I really like you and want this, and you…”

Ezra’s expression changed from confusion to determination. 

“Oh, you silly man,” he said, chuckling softly, “I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but I want you. The moment I met you, I knew that I needed you, and that has been a fire in my belly ever since the moment you kissed me on that park bench. Stay, please, stay…”

Crowley couldn’t exactly refuse that, now, could he?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter!
> 
> Firstly, I had to give Ezra a version of a t-shirt I genuinely own, which is a black t shirt with 'Feminist by Day, Zombie Slayer at Night' emblazoned on it. It was bought for me by my flatmates in my final year at university, as I was (and still am) a vocal feminist, but also very much enjoy playing video games like Left For Dead, as well as using the Zombies Run app when I bother to workout, so they felt like it was an accurate shirt to give me. It's one of my favourite geeky t shirts and I felt like Ezra would have it in his 'guilty pleasure t shirt pile'. 
> 
> I know that I always write my versions of Aziraphale and Crowley to whizz very quickly from just liking each other to tumbling into the bedroom, so I felt like I needed to acknowledge this some how in a way that would be right to the story. It probably also helped that ths song Stay from the Amelie soundtrack was on repeat when I wrote the end of this chapter. I am so glad that Sev put it on the BoP playlist on Spotify!
> 
> I have always had a head canon that Crowley has a strength kink, so had to find a way of inserting that into the Crowley that I have here in BoP. It's also just a hilarious image in my mind of the two of them rescuing a budgie in a stack!
> 
> In the real world, things are starting to level out, I had my last shift on Friday, and am now settling into life without the expectation of going to work for a while. I'm adjusting, and reading all your lovely comments absolutely is helping me get through this transition to the next stage of my life. So, thank you so much for being there for me, for every kudos and words of encouragement. It means so much to me!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cosy night of Netflix and Chill, with the emphasis on 'Chill'...
> 
> (Here be some NSFW antics!)

They soon found themselves on Ezra’s sofa in his lounge, curled up in front of Netflix. Ezra sat upright, but leaning against the back of the sofa, whilst Crowley’s head was laid in his lap as he sprawled out on the sofa. By now, Crowley’s plat had been pulled out, and was flowing on Ezra’s lap. Ezra had given into the temptation of carding his fingers through the long, thick fiery locks as they watched Phil Rosenthal groaning into some steak in an Argentinian restaurant. Crowley had also taken off his sunglasses, tucking them into his shirt, leaving his face unobstructed. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing softly, not quite dozing, but not completely awake either. 

Ezra leaned down, and pressed a kiss onto Crowley’s forehead.

He watched as Crowley’s eyes softly fluttered open. 

“Hey,” Crowley said, his voice slightly roughed by his cat-nap. 

“Hello, darling,” Ezra said gently, “doze well?”

“I didn’t realise that I needed it,” Crowley replied, “you have a comfy lap.”

“That’s the strangest compliment I’ve had,” Ezra replied, “But I suppose I’ll take whatever is sent my way.”

Crowley sat up, and kissed Ezra’s lips. “I will give you compliments so often you’ll get sick of them,” he said, “I think you have the sweetest smile,” he kissed his lips, “You have a dimple right there on your cheek that melts my heart,” he kissed his cheek, right on the dimple in question. 

Ezra blushed, and looked away. 

“Ah, ah! None of that, angel,” Crowley said. He carefully straddled Ezra’s lap, “You can’t escape me and my adoration of you that easily,” he said with a grin. He began to nuzzle kisses into Ezra’s neck, causing him to groan with pleasant surprise. “Is this OK, angel?” Crowley asked. 

Ezra looked up at Crowley. His eyes glowed with a gentle blaze in the low light of the lamp. “Yes,” Ezra breathed, his voice heavy with desire, “As long as you want this too, I mean, with me...”

“You are fucking beautiful, Ezra,” Crowley said, caressing Ezra’s cheek, “And I fully intend on showing you that, if you’ll let me.”

Ezra sat up a bit straighter, pulling Crowley closer to him, bringing him into a deep kiss. His hands roamed around Crowley’s chest as he groaned into the kiss. Perhaps he would have worried about the fact that he was in his sloppy writing clothes, perhaps he would have looked around to see if Oscar was witnessing this moment. But maybe for once he’d just lean in, close his eyes and leap into this moment feet first. 

Crowley's breath hitched as Ezra’s hands brushed over his nipples. He went back to nuzzling Ezra’s neck, before giving him a cheeky nip to the ear lobe, causing Ezra to gasp in surprise. Crowley chuckled softly as he let a hand begin wandering down Ezra’s chest towards his crotch. “Still good, angel?” Crowley asked. 

When Ezra nodded, Crowley let his hand brush over Ezra’s hardening cock that was beginning to tent up his tartan pyjama bottoms. “Let’s get these off, eh?” Crowley said. 

There was a quick fumble as Ezra wriggled to allow Crowley the room to help him off with his pyjama bottoms, which pooled scandalously around his ankles on the floor. Ezra’s cock was gorgeous, erect and out in the open. 

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Crowley said in a reverent whisper, “You are gorgeous, you took my breath away that afternoon, you know that, right?” he said, taking Ezra’s cock into his hand, stroking it carefully. He watched Ezra’s breathing become more ragged, getting more and more worked up with every stroke. A drop of precum pearled at the tip of his cock as he moaned at Crowley’s touch. “Look at you, my angel, coming undone underneath me,” Crowley murmured gently, brushing his thumb over the head of the cock, feeling Ezra shudder underneath him with desire. He felt Ezra’s hands gripping tightly at his hips, like he was trying to ground himself, but also keep Crowley in place as he worked. Such a thoughtful, kind angel, Crowley thought, working his hand faster, completely lost in the beautiful spectacle underneath him. 

“Oh,” Ezra gasped, “Yes, like that,” he said, as Crowley quickened his pace, “Fuck, yes, yes…”

He cried out Crowley’s name as he came, erupting over Crowley’s hand. He couldn’t help but pull him in for a kiss, one that was urgent, that set Crowley’s lips ablaze with want. When they broke apart, Ezra was still breathing heavily, his eyes heavy from riding the wave of orgasm. 

He looked up at Crowley, then realised what had happened. He blushed furiously, which made Crowley laugh gently at him. “Oh, my, I think we’ve made a bit of a mess of things,” Ezra said. 

“In a literal sense, yes,” Crowley said, kissing Ezra’s forehead tenderly, “Not in any other sense that I can see?”

Ezra closed his eyes and savoured the feel of Crowley’s lips on his forehead. “I think not,” he said, looking back at Crowley with a smirk, “Though I do feel a bit chilly and exposed all of a sudden…”

“You utter bastard,” Crowley said, gently swatting Ezra’s chest, “You had me worried for a moment there!” There was luckily a box of tissues on the coffee table, which Crowley grabbed as he clambered off of Ezra’s lap. He carefully wiped his hand clean, before getting another clean tissue and cleaning Ezra up gently. 

Ezra then pulled his pyjama bottoms back up, adjusting so that he was properly decent again. He also grabbed a blanket from behind the sofa. After sitting back down, he draped the blanket in a way that would be cosy for both of them. “Sit with me?” he asked. 

Crowley sat back down on the sofa, scooching right up close to Ezra. Ezra then tucked the blanket around the two of them, wrapping his arm around Crowley and holding him close. They’d been so caught up in each other that Netflix had decided to put the passive-aggressive message on the screen. ‘Are you still watching  _ Somebody Feed Phil? _ ’ 

“Pft,” Crowley said, when he noticed the screen, “We clearly had more pressing matters to hand.”

Ezra rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss on the top of Crowley’s head with a chuckle. “That we certainly did, my darling,” he said, “I feel like you were rather left out,” he said, suddenly sounding slightly guilty. 

“It’s alright, angel,” Crowley said, squeezing Ezra’s thigh underneath the blanket, “I wanted to do that with you, seeing you falling apart underneath me was enough for me.” He looked up at Ezra, suddenly looking very serious. “Seriously, I enjoy giving pleasure, and will never demand anything in return. This isn’t a business transaction. Sure, I love receiving as much as giving, but at this moment, I wanted to look after you,” he kissed Ezra softly on the lips, “You deserve to enjoy being intimate without any pressure to repay me.”

Ezra suddenly felt himself being enveloped into Crowley’s arms, Ezra’s face tucked into the crook of his neck. They stayed like that for a little while, Crowley rocking the two of them side to side for a little while. “It’s OK,” Crowley said, “I’m here, and I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“It’s getting so late though,” Ezra said, his voice tinged with sadness, “You must be getting fed up with me by now.” Crowley looked out of the window, and saw that it was indeed rather dark outside. He thought about it. He didn’t have work tomorrow morning, there was the spare t-shirt in the bottom of his bag…

He made an executive decision.

“I’ll only go if you want me to,” Crowley said, stroking Ezra’s hair, carding his fingers through the soft curls.

Ezra lifted his head out of Crowley’s neck, looking Crowley in the eye. His expression looked ever so conflicted. Thoughts danced across his face. “Only if I want you to go…” he said, like he was weighing up his choices in his mind. 

“Absolutely, angel.”

“You wouldn’t mind?””

“Not at all. Just say the word,” Crowley said. “Your wish is my command”. His heart was pounding in his chest with a sudden spurt of nerves. Even if Ezra told him to go, he’d obey, but it would be so painful to do so, he realised. The realisation of this crashed into Crowley like a rolling wave on a stormy night. 

Ezra took a deep breath, clinging onto Crowley tightly. 

“Stay,” he said, “Please?”

Crowley nodded, kissing Ezra’s curls gently. “I’ll stay right here,” he said, “I promise.” He looked back up at the television. “How does going back to watching Phil eat some really good food sound?”

Ezra nodded, snuggling into Crowley’s chest. It felt like he was always meant to be there. Crowley smiled, and grabbed the Playstation controller with one hand. He pressed ‘yes’ on the message on the screen, letting the programme continue to play as he tucked the blanket around his angel. 

They sat watching the programme for a while.

The blanket was so warm, as was Ezra, cuddled deep into Crowley’s chest. It was adorable watching him getting absorbed into the events of the programme, laughing at the host attempting to ride a horse on a cattle ranch, looking deep in thought at certain cuisines explored, like he was taking some sort of mental note for later. He looked so cosy, so safe in his arms at that moment, which made Crowley feel really happy. 

It was at this moment when Oscar came into the room, his tail aloft in the air as he sauntered across to the sofa. With one elegant leap, he hopped up onto Ezra’s lap. Crowley offered Oscar his hand, with Oscar rubbing his cheek on Crowley’s hand. Crowley gave Oscar a little fuss of his cheek, which made the cat purr contentedly. Ezra chuckled, giving his spoilt cat a scritch behind the ears before he curled up on Ezra’s knee and promptly fell asleep. 

After a few episodes, Ezra looked over at Crowley, who had fallen asleep. He was leaning into Ezra’s shoulder, his leg somehow hooked over Ezra’s lap without disturbing Oscar. Carefully, Ezra unhooked Crowley’s leg, which caused Oscar to be jostled just enough to get off of his lap and hop onto the floor, irritated that his snoozing spot was now being disturbed. 

Ezra picked up the controller, turning the Playstation off. After grabbing the remote to turn off the television, he gently scooped Crowley up into his arms, lifting him up from the sofa in a fluid single motion. Crowley stirred very slightly in his arms as Ezra adjusted his arms to make sure that the sleeping man was comfortable in his arms, as well as properly balanced before he started the walk up the stairs. 

“Right, off to bed with you, I think,” Ezra said tenderly as he started the journey to the bedroom. Carefully, he climbed up the stairs whilst carrying the most precious cargo in his arms. When he got to his bedroom door, he used his hip to gently bop the door open. The door swung open, allowing Ezra to enter the room and lay Crowley onto the bed. He then tried to close the door, but Oscar darted in before. Ezra sighed over dramatically, then shut the door. Oscar then hopped onto a corner at the foot of the bed, curled up and fell asleep once again. 

The absence of Ezra’s touch woke Crowley up. He looked around, finding himself in a different room than he’d been in previously. 

“It’s alright, my darling,” Ezra said softly, “I’m still here. Did you want some pyjamas? I’m sure your jeans won’t be comfy for sleeping in.”

Crowley nodded groggily, still mostly asleep. Ezra picked out an old t-shirt and some pyjama bottoms from one of his drawers, and walked back over to the bed. “Oh, you’re so sleepy,” Ezra said, “May I help you into these? It’ll only take a moment, then we’ll pop to bed…”

Crowley grunted, which Ezra took to be a garbled ‘yes’. Carefully, Ezra helped Crowley out of his shirt and jeans, leaving his boxers on, because that was the polite thing to do, afterall. On went the t-shirt and the pyjama bottoms. 

“Alright, all done,” Ezra said, “I’m going to put you into the bed now,” he said, lifting up the duvet, before tucking Crowley in. The way that Crowley cocooned himself into the duvet was so sweet, that it made Ezra’s heart ache ever so slightly. He then climbed into bed himself, got under the covers, trying hard to avoid kicking his sleeping cat by accident as he settled in for the night. He leaned over Crowley, kissing him on the cheek gently. “Sleep tight, my darling. Dream of whatever you like best.”

Crowley gave out a snuffle-snort, but smiled as he fell into a deeper sleep. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This chapter sure does earn this fic's 'E' Rating!
> 
> It was a great joy to collaborate on this particular scene with Sev, as we sat up for ages working out how this was going to work. (I have promised that any future smut scenes will be easier to portray in comic form!). 
> 
> During the lockdown, my boyfriend and I managed to watch all of 'Somebody Feed Phil' on Netflix, which is a lovely travel/food programme about Phil Rosenthal (writer and producer of Everybody Loves Raymond) going all over the world eating all sorts of cuisines and taking part in the culture. He just has such innocent joy at everything and it's very heart warming, so perfect comfort viewing, hence why I chose for it to be the show featured in this chapter. 
> 
> I'm a day late into updating as my laptop decided to get sick with a virus, so my techy friend had to do a hard reset to make it better. He even managed to fix the fact that it was clogged up with stuff slowing it down too, and I'm noticing the difference with glee.
> 
> Thanks again for all the kudos and comments, they really do mean a lot to me!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is getting ready for his Big Performance, when he receives an unexpected gift from his angel...

“Hey, how’s tricks?”

“Tricks are for kids, I’m a lady!” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t understand why Hastur insisted on making this silly back-stage password system. He was a regular on the scene, and had performed here a few times. Also, using a well-known phrase was going to let any old guest saunter into the changing areas, which wasn’t especially ideal. 

“Come on in then, Crawley,” Hastur said, opening the back entrance door, stepping to one side to let him in. 

“It’s Crowley,” Crowley replied, dragging his suitcases in behind him, whilst also juggling a wig head where a styled black wig sat on top of it precariously, “And that’s my real world name anyway.”

Hastur quickly looked at his clipboard, whilst using a pencil to scratch his greasy hair. Pretty gross, Crowley thought with a shudder, as he managed to get inside without anything toppling to the ground. 

“Yes, there you are, Lady Ashtoreth,” Hastur sneered, “You’re sharing with Lillith and Bella Trix this evening, he added, “So don’t go causing any trouble!”

“You know me, Hastur,” Crowley purred with a tinge of disdain, “Always on my best behaviour.”

Of course Hastur decided that he wasn’t going to assist Crowley with his stuff, so Crowley had to struggle with everything up the stairs. At least it was only one flight of stairs, he thought to himself, and no heels to contend with right that moment. 

He huffed as he made it up to the landing with an almighty clatter.

The first door on the landing opened, and a person in half-baked makeup popped their head around the door. “Ashorteth, girl, you took your time getting here!” 

“A queen is never late,” Crowley replied with a smirk, “She arrives precisely when she means to.” 

The door properly swung open, and the person stepped out to help Crowley with his things. She took the wig head out of Crowley’s arms and twirled around with it as if she were dancing with a person. “Oh, Ash, isn’t she gorgeous though? This the new one? For your new number that you mentioned in the Whatsapp chat?”

Crowley felt his chest puff out with pride, “Yes, this is her. I thought I’d go in with a more retro kind of look this time,” he said, then he noticed that she was out in just her jockstrap and latex breasts and gasped in faux horror. “Bella, you’re practically naked! Get back in there before Hastur starts drooling!” he said, cackling at her antics.

Bella giggled raucously. “And won’t he be a lucky boy to get a glimpse of this fine ass!” she said, “Still in his bad books, then?”

Crowley entered the dressing room, and wheeled the suitcases over to the empty dressing table that seemed to have been left for him. “I suppose reading his new cologne for filth might do that to a girl,” Crowley replied casually, as he flopped down onto the chair with a huff.

“Yeah, turns out he’s a sensitive old bitch,” Bella said with a grin, putting the wig head down on the dressing table carefully. “And his husband has a bad taste in purchasing cologne. Where on earth did he get it from? The ninth circle of Hell?”

Crowley chuckled, as he went to open one of the suitcases, where he brought out a large makeup kit, a hairbrush and a black silk kimono with L.A. embroidered onto the breast in fancy silver writing. In his backpack were some fluffy slippers and a copy of  _ The Redemption of The Fire King _ he’d picked up on Newt’s recommendation. After all, he wasn’t going to casually ask the man he was seeing to recommend a book from his own series, now, was he? He then quickly stripped out of his jeans and shirt, took off his boots and socks, before he put on the slippers and slipped the kimono over his bare shoulders. The feeling of the silk whispering against his skin made him shiver with the anticipation of the show ahead. He could feel that tonight was going to be a great night, he couldn’t wait to get ready to get on stage. 

Then again, getting ready was half of all the fun. 

He carefully emptied the makeup kit, bringing out all the cosmetics he would need, before brushing through his hair and styling it in such a way that it coiled on the top of his head out of the way. He then opened the second suitcase, pulling out a black satin gown and a dark pair of opera length gloves. He also brought out a black feather boa, a coat hanger, a wig cap, a jock strap, corset, a bra with chicken filet inserts and several pairs of black tights. A pair of silver high heels clattered out of the bottom of the bag. He hung up the dress on the provided clothing rail, debating whether it would be an idea to get the iron out from the cleaning cupboard to go over any creases. The heels were placed next to his boots, as Crowley got back into his seat to really begin the transformation. 

Carefully, but with a practiced speed, Crowley put the wig cap over his head, tucking away any stray wisps of red hair so that he had a completely fresh slate. He then grabbed his glue stick, and started to rub it into his eyebrows, getting a good coating in, before grabbing a spare spoolie and brushing the brows down flat. Not his favourite part of the task, but a vital one for changing the structure of his eyes for the sake of this look. 

“Oi, Bella!” he yelled as he started applying concealer stick over his brows, “Where’s Lillith then? If I’m late, then she’s MIA!”

“Apparently her Uber’s late,” Bella replied, as she applied her false eyelashes, “Which seems to be code for ‘I’m balls deep in a Grindr hookup.” She then pressed a button on her phone, with the song  _ Girls Just Wanna (Have Fun) _ starting to blare on the bluetooth speakers. As she finished off her makeup, she was lip syncing to the song, obviously running through the lyrics of her act this evening. 

Crowley shook his head as he started to powder down his brows. “Ah, you wouldn’t catch me on Grindr even if there was no other way of finding a date…”

His brows powdered down, Crowley got to work drawing his brows back in with a 1940’s esque brow in black eyeliner paint. Then he filled in his eye base with a nude base, to create a larger eye socket. A white eyeliner pencil went in the waterline of Crowley’s eyes, then a white eyeshadow went in to fill in the new lid. He then got out the black eyeliner pencil to draw out his eyeliner, a dramatic cat eye, before filling in the liquid eyeliner to really emphasise the effect. Crowley then cut his eye crease with some brown eyeshadow to create some depth, before some glitter glue was then applied and white glitter added to give the look much needed sparkle. 

He swiped on his contour and highlighter sticks to really begin the process of feminising the face. Crowley then started to blend everything in with his beloved beauty blender sponge. He started humming along to the song, despite himself. It was a catchy tune, he couldn’t possibly help it. His base makeup now blended in, he then went to bake his base with powder all over. 

With the powder baking away, Crowley then went to swap his boxers for his jockstrap. After some adjustment, and pulling on a few pairs of tights, he had the effect he was looking for. It was at this point when the door knocked. 

“If that’s not Lillith, then Mama Cleo is going to have my guts for garters!” Bella groaned, halfway into her corset. 

“Who is it?” Crowley called out, quickly clipping hit bra on and slipping it round. 

“It’s Hastur!” yelled a gravelly voice through the door, “I have a delivery for Crawley!”

“A delivery?” Bella cried out, “For old Ash?” she turned around to Crowley. “Most intriguing! But we’re rather indecent so you can’t come in!”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” Hastur said, opening the door. Crowley pulled his kimono closer to himself, suddenly feeling rather exposed in his half-ready self. He stared at the tall man who was carrying a bouquet. A bouquet of red roses, with baby's breath laced through it. It looked absolutely beautiful. Hastur walked over to Crowley, thrusting the flowers into his arms, clearly irritated that he was being tasked with being a delivery boy. 

“Oh, Ash, who could those possibly be from? Something you’ve not told me yet?” Bella asked, “Those are gorgeous, proper flowers, those are…”

“They are gorgeous,” Crowley said, a thrill in his heart, “Hey, Hastur, who brought those here?” Crowley asked. 

“A florist delivery girl brought them, as well as this card,” Hastur said, balancing an envelope on top of the roses. 

As he did so, another man bustled into the room. He was already in his makeup and dressed in what seemed to be a green and red lycra outfit that looked like it had burst out of a Madonna music video. Bella raised an eyebrow at the similarity of her costume, until she pulled out a plush snake and a bright red pair of stiletto heels. 

“There you are Lillith!” Hastur groaned, “Took your time, didn’t you? You’ve got half an hour until Mama hits the stage to kick-start things, so you’d better hurry up!” he then shook his head in exasperation, before turning and leaving the dressing room.

“Who were you balls deep in this time?” Crowley asked the man as he dumped his hold-all onto the other empty dressing table. 

“Never mind that, Ashie dearie,, I’m more intrigued by your special delivery!” Lilith replied, opening the hold-all to grab a wig cap, a red, long wig and wig glue. 

Crowley put the flowers down onto his dressing table, along with the card, before quickly grabbing a brush to swipe off the excess powder from his face. It was all coming together rather nicely, Crowley thought as he picked out a shimmer stick to apply to the high points in his face. 

“Aren’t you going to open the card then, Ash?” Bella asked, picking it up and waving it about. 

“I shall in a moment, Bella!” Crowley said, “Some of us have to get ready!” 

“I wanna know what’s in it though! Lemmie open it, Ash!” 

“No, it’s not addressed to a Bella Trix, is it?” Crowley replied, plucking it out of Bella’s fingers. 

“It’s not addressed to The Lady Ashtoreth either, but to a Crowley, and I sure as heck don’t see him right now!” 

“Shut up!” Crowley said. He realised that if he didn’t open the card now, the other queens would pester him until he did. With an irritated chuckle, Crowley opened the envelope. 

“Is that… a letter?” Lilith asked, “Didn’t know people still wrote those?”

Crowley sat down and began to read the letter. 

_ My dearest Crowley, _

_ I hope that this isn’t too forward of me, but I know it’s traditional to send flowers to a performer before the show. These looked so lovely, and the colour of the roses made me think of your hair, which is rather silly, but there it is. I forgot to mention just how gorgeous it looked the other day when we went on our walk in the park on your lunch break. You were complaining that it was too windy, that it was making your hair go all wild. But I think it looks so beautiful flowing in the afternoon sun. _

_ I know that you’ll be brilliant in the show tonight, so I don’t need to wish you good luck in your performance really, but I suppose I ought to say ‘break a leg’ anyway (even though I’d much rather than you didn’t, it certainly would put a damper on things!) You won’t tell me anything about what your act will be, but you’ve been working bloody hard on it, and I am very excited to see what you have up your sleeve! _

_ If you’re up for it, I’d love to see you after the show? Of course I’ll be in the audience cheering you on anyway? Text me to let me know?  _

_ Your Angel x  _

Bella looked over Crowley’s shoulder. “AWWW, that’s so fucking sweet!” she said, “Since when did you have an angel? Spill the T, girl!”

“It’s none of ya business Bella!” Crowley said, fumbling for a bit of blu-tack from his pencil case, putting the letter onto the mirror where he could see it whilst he continued getting ready to go on stage. On went bronzer and powdered highlighter as Crowley breathed in the fragrance of the roses, enjoying the heady aroma. He’d have to get Ligur to find something to put them in, he thought to himself as he quickly checked over the wig to make sure that it was still alright for putting straight on. 

“He’s a guy I met,” Crowley said, as he applied glue to his false eyelashes, blowing on them delicately to get them to the tacky stage ready to go on his eyes, “At my day job.”

“At the coffee shop?” Lilith asked, slipping on her wig. 

“He’s a writer, and from what I’ve read of his work, he’s a fucking brilliant one,” Crowley said, applying the first lash and preparing the second, “I’ve polished off the first few books he wrote in a couple of weeks. Not my usual genre though.” Crowley spritzed on some perfume, before beginning to prepare his gown to be put on. “Hang on, where the fuck has my corset buggered off to?”

“I’ll be buggered if I know?” Lilith replied, giggling at Bella’s so called ‘warm-up’ which was just some terrible shimmies and facial impressions of Hastur. 

“Oh, you’ve been buggered alright tonight,” Bella laughed, pulling her face into an exaggerated version of Crowley, “As long as I look good for my angel, who knows what to do about my corset!”

“Fuck you both to hell and back!” Crowley cried, shrieking with laughter at his two friends, standing up to look for his corset. 

Tonight was definitely going to be a good night. He could just feel it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I had to remember the process one of my friends goes through when they get ready for a performance as well as watching a few makeup tutorials to get it right. I remember having to comb through this and add bits here and there, it takes a heck of a lot off effort to turn from your street self to your stage self... 
> 
> I also had a great time writing Bella Trix and Lillith! They are OCs exclusive to Blends of Paradise, and are members of Crowley's 'haus' or drag family (It was Bella who spotted Crowley in a club and took him under her wing). 
> 
> Also, I slipped more floriography, because of course I have!
> 
> Red Roses - true love  
> Baby's Breath - sincerity, trust


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra pays a visit to The Eastern Gate, for a show that will put a spell on him...
> 
> (Basically the Chapter that you have all been waiting for...)

When Crowley had texted him the location of the performance he was to be in, Ezra had to google it a couple of times to be sure.

The Eastern Gate. It was advertised as an LGBTQA+ bar that did cabaret nights, which sounded very exciting. There were adverts for drag shows, burlesque nights, even stand up comedy and karaoke. It wasn’t something that he would usually venture out for on a Saturday night, not even during Pride. His Saturdays normally were spent with a mug of cocoa and a good book and Oscar curled up in his lap. This was completely out of his league. 

But there he was, freshened up and wearing one of his nicest shirts and jacket, standing in line with an email ticket on his phone for a show. 

The night in question that Crowley said he had a slot in was the drag night. He’d mentioned that he was a performer, but had only vaguely mentioned various things about it. The other day he had been complaining that he’d been struggling with making his costume for the act, something about satin being a slippery fabric to work with when it came to using a sewing machine. But when Ezra had asked what it was, he’d winked and told him that it was a surprise. 

Was sending a letter and roses a bit much? He worried that it was a bit too much. Hadn’t he mentioned that he was following tradition though? He hoped that Crowley didn’t mind too much about it. 

In front of him in the line, Ezra noticed a couple of people, a young woman with long, wavy black hair and a swishy lace dress and a young man with floppy dark hair and big square framed glasses that he vaguely recognised from the coffee shop that Crowley worked it, from his now more frequent visits. They were facing each other, chattering away excitedly as the queue moved fairly quickly towards the entrance of the bar. 

Then, the young woman suddenly noticed Ezra. “Hey, Ezra! Fancy seeing you here!” she said brightly. 

“Ah, hello, Anathema,” Ezra replied. Phew, he remembered her name, he thought, as she smiled at him, “and you too, Newt,” he said, acknowledging Newton with a grin. Since he had started regularly coming to Blends of Paradise, Newt had eventually calmed down and had actually started to talk to Ezra without looking like he desperately needed to lie down. It was rather sweet, really. 

“I’m assuming that you’re here to watch Crowley,” Anathema said, “I helped him finish up parts of tonight’s number, it’s all rather exciting, don’t you think?”

“He did mention something about you giving him a few suggestions,” Ezra said, “I’m sure that it’ll be very good, and even more improved with your feedback.”

Anathema beamed with delight. “Sit with us,” she said, “It’s absolutely no fun coming to a drag show and sitting all on your own.”

“If that’s alright with you? I wouldn’t want to intrude on your night,” Ezra said. 

“We’re all here to cheer Crowley on, so it makes sense to have team Ashtoreth on one table!” Newt said, as they made it to the end of the line. 

The three of them flashed their ID’s and their tickets to the door man, who let them into the bar. 

When they made it inside, Ezra’s breath was taken away. Yes, the place was dark. Yes the floor was slightly tacky with questionable liquid. But it was beautiful. There was the bar on the back wall, with bottles of brightly coloured liquids on the shelves, almost glowing from the back light on the back of the shelving. There was a man behind the bar, expertly mixing various cocktails for people milling about in front of the bar. Tables and chairs littered around the stage that was on the side wall. The stage itself was lit with lights that were tinged with purples and pinks, with a solitary microphone standing in center stage.

“Hey, I’m going to go get a round in, then you two can grab a table and I’ll come find you?” Anathema said, “What’s your poison Ezra?”

“Uh, a gin and tonic?” Ezra asked, “Thank you, Anathema. I’ll get the next one?”

Anathema winked. “I’ll be holding you to that,” she said, “Fosters for you, Newt?”

“Thanks, Ana,” Newt said. Anathema gave Newt a quick peck on the lips, before disappearing into the crowd that was beginning to well and truly form at the bar. How on earth did one man serve all those people, Ezra thought to himself, he always thought that it was bad enough when he had a line of people in an orderly queue to get a book signed. He suddenly had a new-found respect for bartenders, as he and Newt found themselves a seat at a table pretty close to the front of the stage. 

“You’ll need to be able to see Crowley,” Newt said, with a grin when Ezra noted how close they were to the stage as they made themselves comfortable, “Not to mention that he said to Ana that he’ll be looking out for you.”

Ezra blushed slightly. “He will?”

“Of course! If anything, he’s been babbling on about tonight so much at work,” Newt admitted, “He’s never had someone he really likes and admires watch him in action before,” he added, “So he’s rather nervous, and it’s a new act he hasn’t performed before, so I bet he’s feeling under pressure. Having you in sight will almost certainly make him feel better.”

Ezra felt his nerves calm down ever so slightly, feeling them being replaced by a tingling sense of anticipation as people started making their way to their tables. Anathema then arrived at their table carrying a tray of drinks. 

“One Fosters, one double gin and tonic and a Negroni,” Anathema said, placing each drink in front of each person. She then took her seat, and raised her glass. “To Crowley, may he break a leg, and blow our socks off!”

“To Crowley!” Ezra and Newt said, clinking glasses with Anathema, before taking a sip. 

“So, Ezra,” Anathema asked, a glint of mischief in her eye, “What do you know about Crowley’s act?”

“Not an awful lot,” Ezra replied nervously, “Every time I asked, he’d tell me that he wanted it to be a surprise.”

Anathema took another sip of her drink. “Interesting,” she said, “Very interesting indeed…”

“Why? Anathema, what is it?” 

“Ah,” she said, tapping the side of her nose, “You’ll see.”

At that point, a drag queen in an Ancient Egyptian dress and headdress stomped across the stage, grabbing the microphone and signalling with a hand gesture in the air. The ambient music stopped as she snapped her fingers.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and Non-Binary Pals, Welcome to The Eastern Gate!” She said into the microphone. People at the tables whooped and cheered. “Tonight is going to be quite the night!” she continued, “Where tonight, we take you through the ages, from as early as Ancient Rome right up to the 1980s! There will be cabaret, there will be burlesque,” she said, “And, of course, there will be DRAG!”

There was more cheering from the tables around them. Ezra clapped along politely, as that seemed to be the thing to do.

“I am Mama Cleo, the Queen of The Eastern Gate,” the drag queen said, “Think of me as your glamorous tour guide through history, as we meet some gorgeous historical beauties! Are you all ready to hop into my sparkly Tardis and meet our first Lovely Lady?”

Everyone cheered. “I can’t hear you, duckies,” Mama Cleo said, “Only your adoration will power up this time machine tonight!”

The audience roared a most deafening roar that hurt Ezra’s ears slightly. 

“Ah, that’s more like it! So, this first lady is stepping out from behind the curtain all the way from Rome! Give it up for LULU BLANC!”

There were more cheers as Mama Cleo left the stage, and a rather curvaceous young lady in a black and red ancient Roman toga, who did a rather saucy burlesque routine to a rendition of  _ Big Girls, You are Beautiful _ . There were lots of wolf-whistles and cheers as she eventually stripped into a g-string and some Roman-themed nipple pasties. Although Ezra was in no way aroused by the female form, he could certainly appreciate the gumption that it took to get up on stage and lay yourself out all bare, vulnerable to a more judgemental eye. He wished that he had that kind of confidence himself, as everyone applauded Lulu as she walked off of the stage, clutching her costume in her hands. 

“Lulu Blanc, everyone! Wasn’t she spectacular, folks?” Mama Cleo asked as she came back onto the stage. There were a few whoops and cheers in response to her question. “Now, we go from Ancient Rome, and into Hollywood during its Golden Era. She’s spooky, she’s sexy, she might well put you all under her spell. Give a warm Eastern Gate welcome to the one, the only, LADY ASHTORETH!”

Anathema and Newt cheered louder than anyone else at that moment. Ezra raised an eyebrow at the two of them, but Anathema just gestured towards the stage with a grin. 

The stage had one person occupying it, facing away from the audience. Her hair, long and black, was styled in a 1940’s esque wave, sitting squarely on her shoulders. The gown she was wearing looked like it had been taken straight out of a black and white ‘talkie’ movie. The gown looked like it had been made just for her, sculpted around her lithe frame, the skirt skimming just off of her hips perfectly before hitting the ground. She wore long black gloves that emphasised the length of her arms. There was a large black feather boa draped over her shoulders and tucked between her arms. Ezra couldn’t take his eyes off of her as the spotlight on her changed from bright white to a green. 

The intro of a familiar sounding song began to play, as the person on stage began to click her fingers to the beat of the music, her wrist rolling her hand as she clicked. Her hips swayed deliberately, the lights a glowing sheen on the satin as she moved. She then turned to face the audience. 

Despite the rhinestoned cat-eye sunglasses that she was wearing, Ezra suddenly realised who she was. 

“ _ Crowley?”  _ Ezra said under his breath, as he stared up at the beautiful drag queen on stage. Was this really his Crowley, under the wig, glitter and makeup? He couldn’t quite believe it, but when he glanced very quickly over to Newt and Anathema, he got a wink and a grin from Anathema in response. He looked back up at Crowley, no, Lady Ashtoreth up on the stage. He felt the breath being pulled out of his lungs as he met her gaze. She was the most gorgeous thing that he had ever seen. If only he were an artist rather than a writer, Ezra thought to himself ruefully, it was an image that he could only long to have the ability to do justice to on paper or canvas. 

She gave him a small, knowing smile, before the lyrics started playing. It almost said ‘surprise, angel. You like what you see?’

_ I put a spell on you, 'Cause you're mine _

Lady Ashtoreth began her lip sync, gesturing an arm out in a way that could only be described as occult into the audience. She walked around the stage, her hips rocking from side to side as she gave every single person in the front tables eye contact. 

_ You better stop the things you do, I ain't lyin', no I ain't lyin' _

Carefully, to the beat of the music, Lady Ashtoreth pulled the feather boa off of her shoulders, letting the boa stroke her body as she moved. Oh, were Ezra to be that feather boa at that moment, so that he could be stroking that cheek rather than that feather boa. 

_ I just can't stand the pain, The way you're always runnin' around, I just can't stand the way, You always put me down. _

As she lip synched the lyrics, she pulled faces of annoyance and distaste so over dramatic that it made members of the audience laugh. Ezra found himself enthralled by the way that Lady Ashtoreth moved. She moved with the grace of a black python, circling round in search of its prey. 

She walked off of the stage and into the seating area. Ezra’s breath hitched when he realised that she was sauntering towards the table he and Anathema and Newt were sat at. It wasn’t long until she was there, standing behind him. He felt her hand on his shoulder. 

“Hello angel,” she whispered, wrapping the feather boa around his neck gently, “thanks for the flowers. And the letter,”

“You’re welcome.” Ezra replied. Lady Ashtoreth kissed him on the cheek, leaving a lipstick mark. The audience whooped as she walked away, blowing a kiss in the general direction of their table. Ezra felt a blush creeping up his neck and blooming on his cheeks, but it wasn’t because he was embarrassed by the attention. Far from it. 

How on God’s green Earth was this beautiful, brilliant human being attracted to plain, boring old Ezra Fell, he thought, as he stared at Lady Ashtoreth’s swaying arse as she got back onto stage. He was transfixed, as the song began to draw to a close. 

_ I put a spell on you, 'Cause you're mine… _

As the last notes of the song rang out, Lady Ashtoreth raised up her arm, snapping her fingers, as if she was drawing power from the depths of Hell. In time to the final note ending and that snap of her fingers, the lights blacked out on the stage. After a moment, the lights came back up, but Lady Ashtoreth was gone. 

Almost as if by magic. 

“Wasn’t she brilliant?” Anathema asked as the audience erupted into a huge wave of applause and appreciation. There were people standing up, whistling and cheering, begging for her to come back onto stage. 

It was like they were all under the spell of Lady Ashtoreth, Ezra thought to himself. 

But, he knew the man behind the act. 

And he had put a spell on him. 

He was Crowley’s. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Yes, it's been several months since I last updated Blends of Paradise. 
> 
> Oops!
> 
> If you've stuck around since November, then I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. If you've just joined in, then welcome!
> 
> All sorts of things have happened since the last update. Both Sev and I have been very busy! I was sadly made redundant from my retail job because of the COVID-19 pandemic. After a lot of job hunting, I took a job at a warehouse that sells adult products online, where I pick and pack people's orders and that has me rushed off of my feet most days. I'm also taking part in the Good Omens Reverse Bang, where I take the art and concept of an idea from that art, and write the acompanying fic! I'll be working with the incredible doorwaytoparadise, with the first chapter of that being released on 7th February 2021, so stay tuned for that!
> 
> Sev's been working on lots of amazing projects of their own as well, including their Amararetto comics and fanfic, and lots of other AU ideas, which you can check out on their social medias and on their Patreon (find them as goosetooths, it'll be worth your while!). 
> 
> I'll be updating as much as I can, as I have a few chapters that I wrote well in advance. After the Reverse Bang fic is complete and uploaded, I'll work on finishing Blends of Paradise. Thank you all so much for your patience and support, it means an awful lot to both Sev and I!

**Author's Note:**

> So, after a good month or so of frantic writing and drawing, it is our absolute pleasure to present our contribution to the Good Omens Mini-Bang as part of the Do It With Style Events! 
> 
> It has been an absolute privilege and honour to get to work with Sev, who is so bloody talented and brilliant at what they do! Every time I look at their art for this work, I feel so much joy, so I am eternally grateful. 
> 
> I am also so thankful to the event for bringing us together, for what I hope will be a friendship that lasts a very long time!
> 
> It's also been an amazing experience to join the Mod Team for the event. It was a challenge I was not prepared for, but they are a fantastic team of people who I will cherish always, and be grateful that they let me join them. I want to also thank Micha for creating the event, they have worked so hard to bring this all to life.


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